THE 

OPEN  SECRET 


NAZARETH 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 


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COPYRIGHT,  1906,  BY 
THOMAS   Y.  CROWELL   &   COMPANY 


Published  September,  1906 


praaSHSSHSSBESHS? 
ft! 

a 

To  my  classmate  and  friend 


2ttp0fom»»0fl0mit 

Who  exemplifies  to  a  remarkable  degree 

in  character  and  conduct  the 

principles  here  set  forth 

This 

volume  is  affectionately 

jpputotfu 

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yi>* 

K 

• 

yj*.                           yi».                            ,«o>. 

©jwt  Srorrt  0f  Jfazarrt  ly 


FIRST  LETTER 

On  Board  the  S.  S.  "  Aurora," 
Mediterranean  Sea,  April,  1904. 

MY  DEAR  THOMAS— Hold- 
ing to  the  plan  agreed  upon 
by  us,  I  write  to  you  my  first 
letter.  If  my  hand-writing  appears 
more  illegible  than  usual,  know 
that  this  is  due  to  excitement;  be- 
cause our  captain,  from  the  bridge, 
has  told  us  that  the  dark  line  on 
the  eastern  horizon  is, — as  we  sus- 
pected,— the  coast  of  Palestine, 
1  <  The  Holy  Land. " 
I  frankly  avow  (more  readily  than 
would  you?)  that  I  am  agitated  by 
the  news,  although  not  surprised,  for 
we  have  been  eagerly  expecting  it 
all  the  afternoon ;  but  the  imminent 
fact  that  our  feet  are  soon  to  tread 
the  earth  which  He  trod,  that  we 
shall  look  upon  hills  and  valleys 
whereon  His  holy  eyes  rested, — 


a hr  (Dprn  Smrt  of 

this  fills  me  with  a  vibrant  joy 
which  is  half  a  pain. 

I  can  make  out,  in  the  distance, 
at  present,  only  a  dim,  gray  line, 
stretching  from  north  to  south,  di- 
viding the  restless,  sparkling  blue 
of  the  fitful  sea  from  the  calm, 
cloud-flecked  blue  of  the  great  con- 
cave above. 

With  my  strong  field-glass  (for 
which  again,  dear  Thomas,  my 
warm  thanks)  I  can  faintly  dis- 
cern a  thin,  yellow  line,  edging  the 
broad,  gray  band  at  the  bottom. 
That,  I  am  told,  is  the  belt  of  sand 
stretching,  almost  in  an  unbroken 
line,  along  this  low,  level  coast, 
from  Beirut  to  Suez. 

Already  most  of  my  fellow-pas- 
sengers are  making  ready  the  lit- 
tle baggage  which  they  will  carry 
ashore;  but  I  linger  here  on  deck, 
tasting,  like  an  epicure,  this  experi- 
ence to  which  I  have  long  and  ea- 
gerly looked  forward.  I  wonder  if 
you  would  do  the  same  if  you  were 
here.  My  situation  reminds  me  of 


Wtp  (§p?tt  l$?rrei  of 

the  days,  when,  as  boys  of  ten,  you 
and  I  bought  that  marshmallow- 
paste  at  the  corner  candy-store. 
Many  a  day,  with  pockets  empty,  I 
had  looked  longingly  at  those  sweet- 
meats as  I  passed,  and  had  tasted 
them  again  and  again  in  my  fancy ; 
but  a  day  came  when  you  and  I 
marched  boldly,  commandingly  in, 
and  bought  a  handful.  Alas,  when 
the  first  velvety  morsel  lay  in  my 
mouth,  I  was  so  absorbed  with  the 
purely  mental  experience  of  pos- 
session that  this  quite  extinguished 
the  physical  sensation  of  the  taste ; 
my  self-consciousness  shut  me  from 
my  pleasure. 

That  is  my  condition  at  this  mo- 
ment of  writing;  yet  I  brand  the 
mood  as  morbid ;  and  I  believe  that 
the  bustle  and  activity  of  landing 
and  exploring  will  consign  this 
momentary  obsession  to  the  dark 
limbo  where  it  belongs. 

I  am  thinking,  at  this  moment,  of 
the  ominous  words  of  a  fellow- 
passenger  who  left  us  at  Naples ;  he 
s 


$& 
ww  Xv 


was  a  thin-lipped  man  with  a  cler- 
ical collar  and  with  the  shrewdest 
of  black  eyes ;  when  I  casually  men- 
tioned my  purpose  of  visiting  the 
Holy  Land,  he  dryly  remarked  that 
he  would  not  travel  there  even  if 
his  expenses  were  paid  by  another 
person;  and  he  added,  as  I  looked 
inquiringly  at  him,  that  he  did 
not  wish  to  be  " disillusioned," 
that  he  had  certain  conceptions  of 
the  land  of  our  Saviour's  birth, 
and  he  did  not  wish  to  imperil 
them. 

Think  of  that,  O  Thomas,  thou 
stern  devotee  of  Truth!  I  confess 
that  even  I, — with  all  my  attach- 
ment to  the  revered  past,  and  with 
my  dread  of  bare  metallic  facts, — 
was  repelled  by  the  man's  lack 
of  conscience,  and  his  spiritual 
Epicureanism.  No!  whatever  the 
impending  week  shall  bring  me, 
Thomas,  I  shall  accept, — yes,  wel- 
come it,  trying  all  the  spirits, 
weighing  all  the  evidence,  and  set- 
ting down  faithfully  and  unreserv- 


QUje  ODjmt 


edly,  in  these  letters,  my  experi- 
ences and  my  reflections. 
Again  I  have  risen  from  my 
steamer-chair,  and  taken  one  more 
look  at  the  shore  line.  It  is  growing 
clearer;  the  yellow  belt  of  sand  is 
more  distinct;  the  blue-gray  band 
above  it  is  now  roughened  by  ridges 
and  valleys,  and  the  sky-line  has 


become    serrated    where    hill-tops 
rise  into  the  blue. 

O  Thomas,  my  dear  friend,  my 
" faithful  Achates,"  think  of  it! 
Think  of  it !  I  am  really  close  upon 
entering  "The  Holy  Land."  My 
heart  beats  excitedly  even  as  I 
write  the  words.  The  Blessed  Land 
of  which  we  have  studied,  and 
talked,  and  about  which  I  have 
often  dreamed,  —  that  wondrous 
land  lies  in  the  near  distance  beck- 
oning to  me.  How  the  sweet  names, 
"Jordan,"  "Hebron,"  "City  of 
David,"  "Nazareth  Town,"— how 
they  throng  my  mind,  and  arouse 
memories  and  hopes  which  dim  my 
eyes  with  tears!  I  have  dreamed, 

5 


2ttj*  (Ppttt  &t mt 

many  a  time,  of  the  hills  and  val- 
leys of  the  Promised  Land;  shall 
I  now  find  it,  in  reality,  "A  land 
flowing  with  milk  and  honey?"  Or 
will  it  prove  a  wilderness  only, 
where  my  soul  shall  wander  and 
hunger,  and  my  faith  in  God  fade 
and  die  ? 

Nearer  and  nearer  we  draw  to  the 
shore.  Our  great  steamship  has 
slowed  to  half-speed ;  with  lessened 
vibration,  we  glide  forward,  softly, 
silently,  and  I  might  think  that  we 
were  stationary,  and  the  unfolding 
mass  ten  miles  away  was  gliding 
toward  us. 

The  sea  about  us  has  changed  in 
color  from  a  deep  blue  to  a  dull  yel- 
low, and  the  great  ship  seems  to 
move  cautiously,  as  if  scenting  dan- 
ger, and  reluctant  to  move  nearer 
the  land.  I  wonder,  Thomas,  if  you 
will  understand, — and  I  know  you 
will;  you  always  did  understand 
me,  in  my  vagaries  and  fancies,  al- 
though you  never  grew  hysterical 
over  them,  as  I  almost  grew, — yes, 

6 


®ty  (ijmt  0*rr*t  of  Nazarrtlj 

you  will  understand  me  when  I  say 
that  the  fact  of  my  being  so  near 
the  land  of  Palestine  has  trans- 
formed, —  to  my  senses,  —  every- 
thing about  me.  An  hour  ago,  be- 
fore I  learned  that  we  were  coming 
in  toward  the  shore,  our  ship  and 
all  its  belongings,  together  with  the 
sky  and  its  clouds,  and  likewise  the 
sea-birds  hovering  above  us, — all 
were  enveloped  in  one  aura  of  the 
ocean;  one  day  was  like  another; 
each  day  was  like  every  day  on 
every  ocean ;  but  now  that  we  have 
learned  about  the  nearness  of 
Palestine,  suddenly  the  aura  has 
changed;  all  things, — sky,  clouds, 
sea,  ship,  and  even  passengers, 
all  have  become  transformed;  or, 
rather  ought  I  to  say  that  the  me- 
dium through  which  I  see  them  has 
changed;  yes,  the  very  atmosphere 
of  this  new  zone  seems  freighted 
with  the  breath  of  the  East;  I 
can  almost  believe, — but  resolutely 
will  not,  O  Thomas, — that  already 
I  can  detect,  in  the  balmy  air, 


spices  of  Araby  and  odors  of  far 
Cathay. 

Ah,  how  remote  seem  Naples  and 
Genoa!  The  experiences  of  even 
yesterday  and  this  morning  shrink 
away,  ignored  and  despised,  in 
the  presence  of  this  new  light  and 
beauty.  How  much  of  this  moment's 
experience  think  you,  Thomas,  is 
genuine  and  warranted?  I  wonder 
if  I  would  have  felt  this  transfor- 
mation had  I  not  been  told  the  fact 
of  our  proximity  to  shore.  That 
fact,  that  announcement,  I  fear, 
was  the  philosopher's  stone  which 
has  worked  its  magic  on  sky  and 
sea  and  ship.  Nay,  it  has  more 
worked  its  magic  on  my  soul;  for 
after  all,  Thomas,  I  perceive,  as  I 
close  my  letter  and  prepare  to  land, 
that  when  once  the  soul  is  changed, 
by  a  new  element  of  hope  or  faith 
or  love,  then  the  whole  world  al- 
ters. As  you  and  I,  in  our  pro- 
tracted nocturnal  debates,  have 
often  agreed, — it  is  the  subjective 
element  in  life,  and  not  the  objec- 


»Si5d!n5flH!ri!5i!H^^ 


tive,  which  is  the  powerful  factor 
in  human  destiny ;  "the  life  is  more 
than  meat";  and  "to  him  who 
seeks, — and  finds, — the  kingdom  of 
God,  all  things  are  added." 


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SECOND  LETTER 

Grand  Hotel, 
Jerusalem,  Palestine. 

MY  DEAR  THOMAS,— I  have 
really  broken  bread,  in  Jeru- 
salem; or,  to  say  it  in  more 
prosaic  words,  I  have  just  dined  at 
the  "Table  d'Hote,"  of  this  hotel, 
and  now  write  you  about  the  ex- 
perience of  this  my  first  day  in 
"The  Holy  Land." 
We  lay  at  anchor,  off.  Jaffa,  last 


night ;  and,  early  this  morning,  we 
came  ashore,  in  the  customary  reck- 
less and  perilous  fashion.  I  wish 
you  would  get  a  guide-book  (Bae- 
decker  is  as  good  as  any)  and  read 
it  carefully,  in  connection  with 

these  letters ;  K has  one,  of  the 

date  1899;  that  will  serve  perfect- 
ly well;  a  period  of  five  years  is 
a  mere  augeriblicJc  in  the  sluggish 
procession  of  these  Eastern  cen- 
turies. 

Assuming  now  that  you  have  read 
the  usual  account  of  the  landing  at 

10 


Jaffa,  I  will  say  that  I  am  thankful 
I  had  the  average  athletic  training 
of  boyhood,  else  my  body  might 
now  be  reposing  at  the  bottom  of 
the  Mediterranean,  or  I  might  have 
been  ignominiously  fished  out  of 
the  water  by  a  rusty  boat-hook  in 
the  sinewy  brown  hands  of  a  red- 
shirted  Turkish  boatman. 
I  speak,  in  passing,  of  the  charm- 
ing view  of  Jaffa  which  we  had,  as 
we  lay  at  anchor,  off  shore.  The 
houses, — some  gray,  some  pink, 
some  pale  blue, — nestled,  in  an 
irregular  picturesque  mass  near  the 
beach,  and  with  a  glass  I  could 
make  out  human  beings  upon  the 
flat  roofs, — a  strong  reminder  of  so 
many  scenes  and  episodes  in  Bible 
history ;  perhaps  the  most  convinc- 
ing Oriental  touch  was  given  to  the 
picture  by  the  tall  date-palms,  each 


with  its  bare,  round  trunk,  and  with 
leafy  crown  bestowing  a  circular 
benediction  upon  the  highways  and 
homes.  "Exactly  like  the  pictures," 
said  one  and  another  tourist,  gaz- 
11 

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SE 


ODjmt  &m? t  irf  2s?asar  rtb 

ing  from  the  steamer's  decK,  at  the 
suggestive  scene. 

From  the  guide-book,  Thomas, 
you  have  learned  that  Jaffa  is  the 
modern  name  of  the  Scriptural 
Joppa ;  and  you  have  read  what  is 
said  about  the  recreant  Jonah  and 
the  visionary  Peter.  I  leave  the 
preacher  of  Nineveh  in  your  hands ; 
but  regarding  Peter  I  say  that,  al- 
though the  house  which  is  shown  to 
the  tourist  as  the  home  of  "Simon 
a  Tanner"  cannot  possibly  be  over 
three  hundred  years  old,  yet  the 
"tanner-quarter"  of  the  town  still 
occupies  substantially  the  same  site 
it  occupied  two  thousand  years  ago ; 
so  that  the  account  of  the  vision  of 
the  beasts  "clean  and  unclean," 
may  be  soundly  rooted  in  fact,  and 
may  need  only  slight  psychological 
interpretation. 

It  may  seem  singular  to  you, 
Thomas,  and  almost  absurd,  but  the 
truth  is  that  the  objects  which  most 
impressed  me  at  Jaffa,  this  fore- 
noon, were  the  camels;  "the  lordly 

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camels"  seemed  their  proper  title; 
I  am  told  that  they  are  of  an  un- 
usually large  and  powerful  breed; 
certainly,  they  are  most  majestic 
and  impressive;  and,  as  I  have  no 
reasonable  doubt  of  the  record  con- 
cerning the  building  of  Solomon's 
Temple,  and  the  transportation  of 
cedar  logs  from  Tyre  and  Sidon,  I 
fondly  fancied,  gazing  upon  these 
magnificent  camels  of  Jaffa,  that  it 
was  their  ancestors  who  were  hon- 
ored with  the  task  of  bearing  the 
great  tree-trunks  from  the  sea  up 
to  the  "City  of  David."  Certainly 
the  haughty  creatures  seemed  con- 
scious of  some  superiority  over  or- 
dinary animals,  both  quadrupeds 
and  bipeds. 

Of  course,  dear  old  school-mate, 
you  will  understand  that  since  I  am 
really  seeking  to  come  nearer  the 
personality  of  the  Historic  Jesus, 
I  was  not  so  vividly  interested  in 
Jaffa  as  I  shall  be  in  Jerusalem 
and  other  places  which  He  is  known 
to  have  frequented;  I  fancy  that 
is 


^S£M5HH5ZH52H5ZSHH^^ 

IK?  (Opnt  &wr*t  of  -Xasarrtij 

pur  Master  may  never  have  set  foot 
in  Jaffa ;  certainly  there  is  little  or 
no  evidence  for  his  having  done  so ; 
and  here  let  me  remind  you, — al- 
though I  hardly  need  do  it,  for 
you  know  my  position  in  this  mat- 
ter so  well, — let  me  interpolate, 
concerning  the  theological  doctrine 
of  "The  Essential  Christ,"  that  I 
shall  have  nothing  to  say  of  it;  it 
interests  me  little;  that  tenet  may 
become,  on  the  one  hand,  an  inspir- 
ing mystical  ideal,  or,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  may  sink, — and  often  does, 
— into  a  mere  chameleon  of  faith, 
taking  on  various  hues,  and  baffling 
earnest  hearts.  No,  it  is  "Jesus  of 
Nazareth"  whom  I  seek;  it  is  the 
"Chrestus"  of  the  Roman  histori- 
ans for  whom  I  search;  I  am  led 
by  the  hope  of  making  more  real 
to  myself  (and  possibly  to  you, 
Thomas,)  that  veritable  person,— 
spirit  clothed  in  flesh, — who  walked 
and  talked,  who  served  and  suf- 
fered, here  amid  these  rocky  hills 
and  verdant  valleys,  two  thousand 

•«  •• 

14 


,*ui*.      0 


years  ago.  But  this  is  a  digres- 
sion. 

I  can  understand,  Thomas,  since 
an  experience  of  mine  this  morn- 
ing, how  easily  the  guides  of  this 
country  are  led  into  deceit.  I  no- 
ticed a  fellow-tourist,  as  he  came 
up  to  the  market- well  in  Jaffa; 
I  heard  him  ask  his  guide,  or 
dragoman,  what  interesting  events 
were  connected  with  it;  and  when 
the  guide, — a  mere  lad  of  sixteen, 
— replied  ingenuously  that  he  knew 
none,  the  tourist  was  plainly  dis- 
appointed ;  he  had  expended  a  great 
deal  of  money  to  take  this  jour- 
ney to  Palestine,  and  he  evidently 
felt  defrauded  unless  stories  and 
legends  were  forthcoming  at  every 
step.  I  suspect  that  a  more  sophisti- 
cated guide  than  his  would  have  re- 
sponded to  his  evident  wish  by  un- 
folding some  narrative,  more  or 
less  veracious,  and  would  have 
"  pleased "  his  patron  at  all  costs, 
as  these  Eastern  people  like  well 
to  do. 


-*».  -. 
&*  &$ 


Omitting  many  points  of  descrip- 
tion, and  referring  you  again  to  the 
guide-book,  I  hold  myself  to  the 
distinctly  human  and  personal  ele- 
ments of  my  day's  experience.  I 
know,  so  well,  dear  Thomas,  that 


you  wish  to  check  me,  again  and 
again,  and  ask,  "How  did  you  feel 
about  that  new  point  of  view?" 
Or,  "What  was  the  effect,  on  your 
religious  nature,  of  that  piece  of 
information?"  Yes,  be  assured  that 
I  bear  always  in  mind  your  attitude 
of  inquiry,  and  I  examine  and  re- 
port and  infer,  always,  in  the  light 
of  our  many  midnight  vigils  over 
Strauss  and  Edersheim,  Hartmann 
and  Wernle. 

On  the  exceedingly  slow  journey, 
by  rail,  this  afternoon,  from  Jaffa, 
our  train  stopped  altogether,  as  it 
wound  among  the  hills,  and  the  pas- 
sengers alighted  at  a  bare  little  sta- 
tion, and  walked  up  and  down, 
beside  the  cars.  Nearly  all  the  pas- 
sengers were  Europeans,  and,  —  at 
least  nominally,  —  Christians;  dur- 

abssss         SBSBH  ssls  sss®  siss 


m      m      is      ®s      ss 


ON   THE   ROAD   TO  CAN  A 


ynHSBffiZHSHEKSHHS^^ 


ing  that  hour,  although  on  soil  gov- 
erned by  Moslems,  the  followers  of 
the  lonely  Nazarene  were  in  the 
large  majority  ;  so  that  I  was  deep- 
ly impressed  at  seeing  a  Turk  then 
and  there  engage  in  his  devotions  ; 
he  knelt  upon  a  little  patch  of 
grass,  faced  toward  Mecca,  and 
went  through  the  prescribed  pos- 
turings  and  prayers,  as  if  quite 
oblivious  of  the  restless  Christians, 
around  him,  who  jostled  one  an- 
other, and  talked  loudly  and  impa- 
tiently, and  sometimes  nearly  stum- 
bled over  his  bowed  body. 
I  think  that  most  of  us  felt,  at  first 
sight  of  his  religious  absorption,  a 
prompt  admiration  for  his  devotion 
and  his  disregard  of  curious  spec- 
tators. But  my  reflections  did  not 
stop  there;  I  was  ready  enough  to 
credit  the  man  with  sincerity  and 
fervor  and  courage;  but  I  asked 
myself  if  we  tourists  did  not  err  in 


think  this  is  true;  Thomas,  that  re- 


& 


ligions,  —  like  individuals,  —  vary 
greatly  in  the  degree  of ' '  intimacy, ' ' 
(as  the  French  say),  of  soul-reve- 
lation which  they  express  in  their 
devotions.  Certainly,  you  and  I  re- 
member, among  our  friends,  per- 
sons who  spoke  easily,  naturally, — 
even  casually  and  lightly, — of  their 
religious  experiences;  and  other 
persons  there  were  who  revealed 
their  convictions  and  aspirations 
only  with  reluctance,  and  after  a 
marked  struggle  with  their  sensi- 
tive natures. 

Have  you  not  observed  these  two 
classes  of  religious  people?  I  am 
not  sure,  but  I  think  that  you  and 
I  both  belong  among  the  more  sen- 
sitive and  less  expressive  group. 
My  old  friend  and  former  college 
instructor,  Dr.  William  James,  has 
divided  religious  people  into  the 
two  classes  of  the  "Once  Born" 
and  "Twice  Born";  and  that  clas- 
sification at  least  roughly  expresses 
the  difference  among  people  which 
I  have  in  mind;  the  "Once  Born" 

18 


jWSHHSZHHSSHZHSZffi^ 


devout  persons  speak  easily  and 
without  self  -  consciousness  about 
their  relations  to  the  Supreme  Be- 
ing; their  words  and  acts  of  devo- 
tion seem  natural  to  them,  and  seek 
no  protective  concealment  ;  but  the 
"  Twice  Born"  repress,  and  stam- 
mer, and  reveal  their  inmost  re- 
grets and  longings  only  under  pres- 
sure, and  then  with  a  reluctance 
which  amounts  almost  to  pain.  As 
these  two  classes  of  devout  persons 
have  become  more  and  more  dis- 
tinct to  me,  I  have  recalled  the 
story  of  Adam  and  Eve,  at  first 
walking  naked  and  unashamed  in 
the  Garden  of  Eden,  and  again 
walking,  timid  and  self-conscious, 
poorly  protected  by  their  garments 
of  leaves. 

So  I  ask  myself,  "Is  it  a  deeper 
sense  of  sinfulness  which  lies  back 
of  the  sensitiveness  of  the  '  Twice 
Born?'  or,  is  their  perception  of 
the  perfection  of  God  keener  and 
more  exalted  than  is  that  of  the 
calmer  'Once  Born?'  Does  the  re- 

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«      !»'•.»      1 


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ligious  experience  commonly  called 
*  conversion7  bear  upon  the  differ- 
ence between  these  two  classes  ?" 

I  know  of  no  ultimate  analysis  of 
these  two  types  of  religious  na- 
tures ;  but  the  kneeling,  murmuring 
Moslem  made  me  conjecture  afresh ; 
and  I  think  that  many  of  us  who 
observed  him,  had  we  felt  a  degree 
of  devotion  great  enough  to  compel 
us  to  our  knees  and  prayers,  in  that 
conspicuous  place,  could  not  have 
risen,  a  few  minutes  later,  as  did 
he,  with  calm  countenance,  ready  to 
chat  on  the  idle  interests  of  the 
journey. 


20 


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. 
THIRD  LETTER 

Grand  Hotel, 
Jerusalem,  Palestine. 


MY  DEAR  THOMAS, --One 
long,  full  day  I  have  been 
in  this  strange  yet  familiar 
city ;  and  to-night  my  mind  is  more 
chaotic  than  when  yesterday  I  came 
through  the  Jaffa  gate.  I  started  on 
my  round  of  sightseeing  early  this 
morning.  During  the  first  hour  I 
walked  or  rode,  in  a  state  of  exalta- 
tion; I  said  to  myself,  repeatedly, 
"I  am  in  Jerusalem;  I  am  actually 
walking  upon  the  ground  which 
His  sacred  feet  have  pressed."  And 
at  times,  when  I  looked  down  over 
an  extensive  view  of  the  narrow 
streets  and  flat-roofed  houses,  my 
memory  of  Jerusalem,  "The  Holy 
City,"  which  often  I  had  imaged 
in  my  fancy, — flashed  across  my 
field  of  thought,  and  for  a  moment 
obscured  the  prosaic  and  even  sor- 
did scene  before  me.  But,  gradually 
21 

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]tt»..*u>.M>.  W>.yji>.y4>.    r5>.R>.>5*i   55>.yi>..Sk>.   .*w 


through  the  day,  my  vividly  fancied 
"Jerusalem,"  the  "Holy  City"  of 
my  dreams,  has  become  dim,  as  the 
coarser,  harder  reality  around  me 
has  strengthened;  and  to-night  I 
confess  frankly  to  myself  and  to 
you,  O  " Alter  Ego,"  that  I  recall 
the  "Via  Dolorosa,"  and  "The 
Temple  Area,"  and  "The  Church 
of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,"  with  no 
more  excitement  than  I  recall  the 
"Bay  of  Naples"  or  the  "Rock  of 
Gibraltar." 

You  must  not  wonder,  Thomas,  at 
this  sudden  ebbing  of  my  enthusi- 
asm ;  certainly  you  would  not  won- 
der, if  you  were  here.  I  recall,  as  I 
write,  the  remark  of  my  sophisti- 
cated clerical  friend  on  the  steamer, 
who  would  not  visit  Palestine,  "be- 
cause he  did  not  wish  to  be  disillu- 
sioned." I  can  hardly  say  that  I 
have  suffered  quite  "disillusion"; 
but  the  readiness  of  guides  to  point 
out  "holy  sites"  and  to  gabble 
Scripture,  and  the  shock  of  seeing 
Turkish  soldiers  keeping  order  and 

22 


peace  at  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre,  —  the  very  centre  and 
focus  of  adoring  Christendom,  yet 
frequently,  in  the  recent  past,  a 
scene  of  riot  and  slaughter  among 
rival  devotees  of  the  "Meek  and 
Lowly  Jesus,  "  —  these  things  have 
made  a  sorrowful  impression  upon 
me.  I  can  understand  that  the  com- 
mon people,  —  the  habitual  resi- 
dents of  the  city,  —  should  be  led  to 
traffic  in  relics,  and  to  profit  by  the 
blind  emotions  of  pilgrims;  but 
when  I  learned  that  the  priests, 
Latin,  Greek,  Armenian,  who  min- 
ister at  the  altar  of  this  most  sacred 
shrine,  are  always  in  danger  of 
breaking  out  into  acts  of  violence 
and  bloodshed,  one  against  another, 
I  seemed  sadly  to  see  the  long 
toiling  centuries  of  what  I  had 
called  "Christian  progress,"  shut- 
ting back  into  themselves  like  the 
sections  of  a  telescope;  and  I  felt, 
for  a  moment,  as  if  I  might  as  prop- 
erly and  profitably  visit  and  adore 
the  shrines  at  Athens  or  Mecca,  as 


:>; 

Sty*  ($jmt  0*mt  of  Nazareth 

"•>  •      •  * 


.."„ 


the  shrine  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  at 
Jerusalem. 

I  fear,  Thomas,  that  I  am, — as 
you  have  told  me, — an  inveterate 
hero- worshipper ;  for  I  now  see 
that  I  held,  in  my  heart,  as  I  came 
to  this  traditional  scene  of  Christ's 
passion,  the  feeling  that  here  I 
would  find  not  only  objects  and 
places  which  would  satisfy  the  sen- 
timents which  I  brought  to  them, 
but  that  the  human  beings  whose 
high  privilege  it  was  to  minister 
here  would  be  nobler  in  mien  and 
more  elevated  in  spirit  than  Chris- 
tian priests  and  ministers  else- 
where; but  their  faces  seem  hard 
and  sottish,  and  although  their 
brilliant  raiment  gives  them  dis- 
tinction, when  seen  at  a  distance, 
they  seem  commonplace  indeed, 
when  off  duty ;  and  I  observed  one 
of  their  leaders,  at  a  side  door,  eat- 
ing and  drinking  in  a  most  slovenly 
and  gluttonous  fashion,  immedi- 
ately after  I  had  seen  him  moving, 
with  impressive  air  and  gestures, 


aflfldw 
Gtfp  fl&jmt  &tttt t  nf  Sfetrrtlj 

y>. 

before  the  altar  in  the  Chapel  of 
Saint  Helena. 

As  for  the  site  of  the  Temple, — 
"The  Temple  Area,"  it  is  called,— 
I  found  little  there  which  moved 
me.  The  insolent  Turkish  attend- 
ants seemed  to  merely  tolerate 
Christian  visitors ;  and  while  I  was 
struck  by  their  greedy  clamor  for 
larger  and  larger  fees,  I  could  boast 
myself  but  little,  as  of  a  superior 
cult,  when  I  recalled  the  "Commer- 

•      T  11  1     •     1          •  -11  J 

cialism "  which  is  so  widely  and 
deeply  permeating  the  Christian 
churches  of  America. 
I  think,  Thomas,  as  I  look  back 
over  this  eventful  day,  that  what 
most  deeply  impressed  me,  was  the 
reality  and  intensity  of  the  grief 
manifested  at  "The  Jews'  Wail- 
ing Place."  You  have  read  about 
it,  and  have  seen  the  familiar  pho- 
tographs. The  original  is  far  more 
impressive  than  picture  or  descrip- 
tion; and  I  think  that  you  would 
have  shared  with  me, — O  Thomas, 
hater  of  ceremonials  and  doubter  of 


"SKH*' 

K£ 

?&, 

JH 
__HffiHSHSHSHSH5HHS2 


Scriptural  authorities, — the  sym- 
pathetic pain  I  felt  for  this  op- 
pressed and  despised  people,  who 
here  mourn,  with  tears  and  groans, 
the  downfall  of  their  religious  pow- 
er, even  after  many  centuries  have 
faded  away,  in  a  twilight  of  gloom 
and  a  midnight  of  pain. 

As  I  looked  upon  them,  dim  and 
picturesque  amid  the  shadows  of 
their  Sabbath  Eve,  and  noted  their 
fervent  ejaculatory  prayers,  I 
gained  new  insight  into  the  pas- 
sionate religious  temper  of  the 
1 ' People  of  Israel";  and  I  under- 
stood for  a  moment,  standing  there 
amid  the  deepening  darkness,  how 
the  providence  of  God,  on  its  er- 
rand of  merciful  revelation  to  man, 
found  a  more  direct  and  less  ob- 
structed channel  through  the  pure 
fervent  heart  of  a  "  Son  of  David," 
a  descendant  of  Moses  and  Elijah, 
than  it  could  find  through  the 
hysterical  priestesses  of  Dodona  or 
the  perfunctory  augurs  of  Rome. 

In  this  real  approach  to  ' '  The  His- 

26 


{KSBEEHHHHSBZH^^ 


toric  Jesus,"  slight  though  it  is,  I 
believe  you  will  give  me  your  sym- 
pathy. If  you  had  been  with  me,  to- 
day, in  my  tour  of  the  city,  you 
would  have  distrusted  the  "Holy 
Sites,"  and  scorned  the  pompous 
ecclesiasticism,  even  more  prompt- 
ly and  boldly  than  have  I ;  but  this 
suggestion  of  a  purely  racial  poten- 
tiality I  think  you  would  have  been 
quick  to  feel;  for  its  significance 
lies  in  its  harmony  with  that  nat- 
ural unfolding  of  lower  into  higher, 
in  human  affairs, — as  in  affairs 
cosmic  and  material, — which  must 
always  attract  the  thoughtful,  sin- 
cere man  of  the  twentieth  century, 
trained  to  scientific  ways  of  seek- 
ing truth. 

I  have  not  forgotten,  Thomas, 
your  former  admiration  for  Buckle 
and  his  theories  of  civilization ;  and 
although  I  never  could  give  to  his 
views  the  almost  unqualified  assent 
which  you  gave,  I  firmly  believe, — 
as  the  Greeks  said, — that  "Nature 
does  not  advance  by  leaps" ;  a  great 
27 


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.y 


m     ^ 


PS^^  •" 

2Kj*  (JDjmt 


religious  leader  is  not  likely  to  be 
born  out  of  a  merely  military  or 
speculative  people;  and,  in  my 
search  here  in  sordid  Jerusalem,  in 
priest-ridden,  Turk-ruled  Pales- 
tine, for  "Him  who  spake  with 
authority,"  I  have  been  convinced 
that  the  Nation  of  Israel, — individ- 
ual, devout,  passionate, — was  such 
a  people  as  might  give  birth  to  that 
"Holy  One,"  whose  most  sacred 
shrines  have  been  consecrated  hu- 
man wills,  and  whose  truest  tem- 
ples have  been  aspiring  human 
hearts. 

Therefore,  O  Thomas,  although  it 
will  be  with  a  feeling  of  disappoint- 
ment that  I  shall  leave  Jerusalem, 
in  a  few  days,  I  shall  depart  with 
at  least  this  attained;  I  shall  have 
advanced  in  my  quest  by  at  least 
one  step, — a  step  of  negation  and 
elimination;  I  have  not  come  into 
the  expected  glory  of  His  presence ; 
I  have  not  quite  felt  the  thrill  of 
life  which  could  result  from  touch- 
ing the  hem  of  His  garment ;  but  I 

28 


Qtty*  GDjmt  &m*t  of  Nazarrtly 

have  seen,  assuredly,  what  He  saw, 
and  walked  where  He  walked.  And 
when  I  leave  here,  for  Galilee,  I 
shall  depart,  feeling  that  I  have 
found  the  base,  the  pedestal,  of  my 
statue ;  and  the  statue  itself, — shall 
I  find  that  in  Nazareth,  the  scene 
of  Christ's  childhood  and  unfold- 
ing youth  ? 

Something  leads  me  to  believe  that 
I  shall  come  nearer  to  Him, — my 
heart's  ideal, — there  in  the  peace 
and  serenity  of  unchanged  Naza- 
reth, than  amid  the  superstition 
and  greed  of  this  half-pagan  city. 

As  I  close  this  letter,  dear  Thomas, 
the  words  of  desolate,  despairing 
Mary  of  Magdala  recur  to  me,  and 
arouse  an  echo  in  my  disappointed, 
yet  not  hopeless,  heart :  "They  have 
taken  away  my  Lord,  and  I  know 
not  where  they  have  laid  him." 


FOURTH  LETTER 

Nazareth, 
Casa  Nuova  Hospice. 

THOMAS,  DEAR  FRIEND,— I 
am  glad  that  I  can  write  to 
you  out  of  more  joyousness 
of  spirit  than  I  last  wrote.  When  I 
left  Jerusalem  I  felt  depressed, — 
not  only  at  my  own  failure  to  real- 
lize,  in  that  city,  the  ideals  which 
my  devout  fancy  had  created,  but  I 
regretted  being  obliged  to  send  to 
you,  my  silent  absent  partner  in  this 
pilgrimage,  so  futile  and  gloomy  a 
report.  But  I  resolved  that  I  would 
hold  unflinchingly,  to  our  serious, 
even  solemn  agreement,  in  letter 
and  in  spirit ;  and  the  unsatisfying 
result  you  have  seen. 
This  letter,  however,  should  bring 
you  some  joy  in  the  reading,  as  it 
affords  me  much  joy  in  the  writing. 
Know,  then,  that  I  have  found  my 
journey  into  the  interior  of  the 
country,  from  Haifa,  a  balm  to  my 
soul  and  a  stimulus  to  my  hopes. 

30 


pE5H5S2SSSaS2ffiS^^ 

ut 


The  roadstead  at  Haifa  is  quite  as 
Baedecker  describes  it,  —  no  real 
harbor,  but  only  a  curve  in  the 
sandy  shore,  sheltering  a  strag- 
gling, flat-roofed  Eastern  town, 
and  with  the  mighty  promontory 
of  Mount  Carmel  towering  above. 
My  hasty  but  pleasant  visit  to  the 
monastery  I  will  tell  you  about, 
when  I  return.  I  am  keeping  notes 
of  many  incidents  and  scenes  which 
I  will  not  allow  to  intrude  into 
these  letters. 

On  the  journey  over,  from  Haifa, 
I  found  that  the  places  whose 
names  had  long  been  familiar  to 
me  awoke  far  more  satisfying  emo- 
tions in  my  breast  than  did  the 
"  sacred  sites'7  in  Jerusalem.  I  be- 
lieve that  the  reason  is  because 
"Carmel,"  and  "The  Brook  Kish- 
on,"  and  "The  Plain  of  Esdrae- 
lon,"  and  "Mount  Hermon,"  —  all 
being  parts  of  physical  nature,  — 
have  suffered  little  or  no  debasing 
change  at  human  hands,—  devout 
or  profane.  At  Jerusalem  the  ques- 


tion  of  "  identity"  or  "  authentic- 
ity" turned  upon  some  street  or 
house  or  cave,  some  object  which 
was  quite  at  the  mercy  of  man's 
transforming  power  ;  the  Mount  of 
Olives  with  Gethsemane,  and  the 
"Real  Hill  of  Calvary"  I  find  re- 
main most  prominent  in  my  mem- 
ory, out  of  all  the  objects  and  scenes 
I  have  looked  upon  thus  far.  But  I 
must  now  class  with  them  Carmel 
and  Hermon  and  these  others  ;  for 
surely  such  features  of  physical 
nature  have  not  materially  altered 
since  our  Saviour's  time;  and  I 
have  no  doubt  that  these  sacred 
elements  of  the  Syrian  landscape, 
upon  which  my  eyes  have  rested, 
were  really  gazed  upon  by  our  dear 
Lord,  as  He  led  and  taught  His 
disciples. 

The  journey  across  the  fertile 
plains,  from  Haifa,  was  made  by 
me  in  an  easy  day's  journey.  I  am 
glad  that  I  travelled  slowly,  dream- 
ily, yet  with  my  senses  open  to  all 
impressions  ;  for  the  recollection  of 

Si          *(1V  •>••.•  '.HJ  ••>>•  -.  !»•  "U 

32 


Hf 


that  pleasant  journey  will  always 
remain  a  bright  panoramic  picture 
in  my  heart.  I  could  hardly  repress 
the  feeling,  —  and  I  did  not  wholly 
care  to,  Thomas,  —  that  Nature  her- 
self was  giving  me  glad  welcome 
into  the  land  of  Galilee;  the  sky 
was  as  clear  and  blue  as  a  great 
concave  sapphire,  until  the  after- 
noon, when  a  thin  fleece  of  cloud 
overspread  it  and  softened  it  to 
opalescence.  The  whole  country 
seemed  to  rejoice  in  its  abundant 
verdure;  and  the  bright  flowers, 
—  anemones,  poppies,  roses,  and 
tulips,  —  growing  in  wild  luxuri- 
ance, appeared  to  sing  their  glad- 
ness, in  exuberant  emulation  of  the 
birds,  —  finches,  thrushes,  and  the 
tuneful  black-bird  of  Syria,  —  which 
filled  the  air  with  rapt,  exultant 
melody.  Both  the  beauty  of  the 
flower-strewn  plain  and  the  beauty 
of  the  feathered  sprites  of  the  air 
appealed  strongly  to  me  ;  both  birds 
and  blossoms  seemed,  —  to  my  quick- 
ened fancy,  —  to  spring  from  some 


rejoicing  Mother-Heart  of  Nature; 
and  I  took  the  day's  experience  as 
a  happy  augury  of  what  was  before 
me,  in  Nazareth. 

Let  me,  however,  interpolate  this  ; 
—  I  said,  a  moment  ago,  that  "I 
had  no  doubt,"  etc.  Alas,  I  should 
amend  and  write,  "no  reasonable 
doubt";  for  I  confess  that  I  am 
conscious  of  a  sombre  mood  of 
doubt,  a  veritable  canker  of  dis- 
trust, which  was  engendered  in  my 
soul  by  those  days  of  disappoint- 
ment in  and  near  Jerusalem.  I 
realize,  more  than  ever,  the  truth 
which  you  and  I  reached,  in  one  of 
our  talks,  that  human  doubt,  espe- 
cially on  religious  themes,  is  often 
a  condition,  rather  than  a  convic- 
tion; I  recall  your  illustration  of 
the  cup  of  quassia-wood,  which  em- 
bitters any  water,  however  sweet, 


that  is  poured  into  it.  That,  I  fear, 
is  in  a  degree,  the  abnormal  condi- 
tion of  my  mind,  at  present;  but 
earnest  activity, — mental  and  phys- 
ical,— is  the  remedy,  as  we  agreed, 

34 


Wp  GDjwt 


of  Efazaret  ly 


/for  the  mood  of  doubt ;  and  I  shall 
not  fail  to  apply  it. 
I  have  already  seen  enough,  dear 
Thomas,  since  I  arrived  at  this 
peaceful  little  hamlet  of  Nazareth, 
to  make  me  feel  that  here  I  shall 
come, — yes,  I  have  already  come, — 
nearer  to  the  real  Jesus  than  was 
possible  in  Jerusalem.  The  houses 
of  the  village  may  not  be  identically 
the  same  as  those  in  which  Joseph 
and  Mary  and  their  relatives  and 
neighbors  lived,  but  they  are  sub- 
stantially the  same  in  form  and 
location;  the  narrow  streets  and 
narrower  lanes,  winding  up  and 
down  and  around  the  concave  of 
the  town,  probably  are  much  as 
they  were  when  He  walked  through 
them,  bestowing  blessings  by  His 
very  glance.  There  has  been  no  suf- 
ficient cause  for  the  alteration  of 
the  original  features  of  the  town; 
Nazareth  has  not  been  compelled  to 
pass  through  the  social  convulsions 
and  political  cataclysms  which  have 
blasted  and  reshaped,  have  razed 


rfl 

ad; 

-.y^>.L 


and  rebuilt  the  Holy  City;  Naza- 
reth lies  in  her  oval  valley,  like  a 
babe  in  its  cradle,  smiling  up  at  the 
cloud-flecked  heavens  and  the  star- 
strewn  firmament ;  and  her  obscur- 
ity has  been  her  armor,  her  insig- 
nificance has  preserved  her  pristine 
beauty  and  innocence. 
I  am  hopeless  about  priest-haunt- 
ed, war-desolated  Jerusalem;  I  see 
no  possibility  of  ever  tracing  the 
palimpsest  record  of  the  Christ, 
beneath  the  writing  on  her  scrawled 
and  blood-stained  pages;  but  I 
fondly  dream,  Thomas,  as  I  write, 
here  on  a  tiny  balcony  of  this  Fran- 
ciscan Monastery,  that  sometime, 
when  the  world  shall  be  ready, 
when  it  shall  have  fulfilled  its  days 
of  waiting,  there  shall  be  reared, 
here  in  this  valley,  here  in  this 
cradle  of  Christianity,  a  fitting  tem- 
ple to  the  world's  Messiah,  where 
there  shall  be  no  flaunting  of 
priestly  robes,  no  profanation  by 
greedy  relic-venders,  nor  even  the 
light  of  a  candle  or  the  smoke  of 


irf  -Nazarrtlj 


incense  ;  but,  into  its  silent  simplic- 
ity and  dignity,  devout  men  and 
women  shall  come,  from  all  lands  ; 
and,  in  grateful  silent  communion 
with  the  Sacred  Past,  they  shall 
re-create,  each  for  himself,  that 
blessed  Life  ;  and  they  shall  purify 
their  souls  by  communion  with  that 
Eternal  and  Ever-Present  Spirit, 
who  is  our  Father,  as  He  was  also 
"God  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ." 


& 

??: 


•- 

•-' 
VS 


: 


FIFTH  LETTER 

Nazareth, 
"  On  the  Mountain,  Apart." 

MY  DEAR  THOMAS —I  am 
sitting  here  on  this  hill-top, 
back  of  the  village,  upon  a 
ledge  of  rock,  which  His  holy  feet 
may  have  actually  pressed.  I  will 
trust  you  enough  to  tell  you  that 
when  I  first  came  up  here,  I  kneeled 
and  kissed  the  rough  rock,   and 
my  beating  heart  made  itself  felt 
against  my  side. 

I  am  alone,  Thomas,  yet  in  the 
midst  of  my  outer  solitude  I  find 
that  my  soul  entertains  a  guest;  I 
do  feel,  Thomas,  here  on  this  rocky 
height,  here  upon  this  " mountain," 
up  into  which  He  was  wont  to  "go 
apart  to  pray,"  that  the  centuries 
suffer  subsidence,  so  that  with  "the 
inner  eye"  I  look  across  them,  and 
with  quickened  fancy  I  behold 
Him,  I  welcome  Him,  I  sit  at  His 
feet  and  learn  of  Him, — yes,  I,  the 
most  unworthy  of  disciples. 

38 


Here,  upon  this  hill-top,  He  must 
have  come,  often,  in  His  childhood 
and  youth.  There  are  those  who  tell 
us  that  He  was  not  born  at  Bethle- 
hem, but  was  born  here ;  I  contend 
with  no  critic,  I  waive  minor  points 
of  biography;  but  surely  it  was 
here  in  Nazareth  that  the  child 
Jesus  passed  through  those  im- 
pressionable and  inquiring  years 
wherein, — be  it  as  a  flash  of  illu- 
mination, or  gradually  like  a  softly 
increasing  strain  of  music, — some- 
how the  conscious  sense  of  "God 
the  Father"  came  to  Him,  and  He 

j 

was  numbered  among  the  prophets, 
and  His  high  mission  opened  unto 
Him. 

Let  priests, — Latin,  Greek  and 
Armenian, — quarrel  and  rant,  at 
Jerusalem  and  Bethlehem !  Here  in 
Nazareth,  set  in  the  midst  of  her 
fourteen  hills,  we  come  close  to 
the  marvellous  incarnated  Reality 
which  lies  back  of  all  Christian  his- 
tory and  tradition.  Let  critics  pore 
over  manuscripts,  and  prelates 
39 

8S  \. 


>K  SS  JB«  £&  ffi 

i!^52SHCTaoaanai::o^aaOCTOC5t"3I"!O£"iac3c;i':;ii; 


thunder  their  decrees! — Here  was 
"The  Christ"  born,  here  Jesus 
"came  to  himself";  here  the  Man, 
Christ  Jesus,  first  knew  Himself  as 
Son  of  God ;  the  physical  birth  was 
not  of  chief  importance,  for  mill- 
ions have  entered  this  earthly  life 
as  did  He ;  but  the  birth  which  was 
of  the  spirit, — that  was  unique, 
without  precedent;  and  the  place 
where  that  occurred,  though  un- 
marked by  memorial,  though  un- 
known to  the  multitude,  must  al- 
ways be, — "Holy  ground." 
My  dear  Thomas,  sitting  here  as 
I  do,  far  from  you  and  far  from  the 
restless,  eager  life  of  Europe  and 
America,  I  feel  more  strongly  than 
ever,  that  our  Western  life  is  too 
intense,  too  surcharged  with  aim 
and  energy,  to  easily  understand 
the  secret  of  a  religion  born  and 
nourished  amid  the  calm  of  Syrian 
fields  and  the  silence  of  Syrian 
hills.  Not  that  I  attribute  mysteri- 
ous qualities  to  the  Holy  Land  it- 
self;  I  do  not;  I  have  declared  to 

40 


myself,  since  reaching  this  simple 
hamlet,  leaving  behind  me  the 
clamor  of  tourist-sated  Jerusalem, 
that  Jesus  could  not  have  come  to 
knowledge  of  God's  Fatherhood  at 
Jerusalem  as  He  did  at  Nazareth; 
better  might  I  say, — lest  I  seem 
irreverently  to  set  limits  to  the  Al- 
mighty's power, — Jesus  was  far 
less  likely  to  have  reached  His  full 
soul-effulgence  among  the  sordid 
distractions  of  a  city  than  amid  the 
calming  solitude  of  flower -sown 
valleys  and  rugged  mountain- 
altars. 

Here  I  sit,  dear  friend  of  my  child- 
hood and  confidant  of  my  youth, 
and  I  look  down  upon  the  white 
walls  and  open  roofs  of  Nazareth 
Town,  and  recall  the  gem-like  life 
which  once  nestled  here,  reflecting 
back  to  God  a  greater  brilliancy 
than  was  returned  to  their  Maker 
by  the  stars,  in  the  pure  setting  of 
a  clear  Syrian  midnight.  Here  lived 
Jesus  through  thirty  peaceful 
years,  while  Greece  was  grieving 

41 

'•i   &&£$£&   &£&$&£ 
W>..«o>.y,i>.   y&y.Pi.jpaA 


amid  her  ruins,  and  Rome  was 
plunging  to  her  downfall;  and  cui 
lonot  To  whom  the  good,  Thomas, 
of  His  tireless  patience,  His  un- 
complaining endurance,  His  tor- 
ture of  body,  and  His  agony  of 
soul?  How  much  did  Jesus  accom- 
plish? How  much  of  the  world's 
destiny  did  He  shape  ?  How  far  are 
the  so-called  "  Christian  Nations " 
really  Christian,  after  the  high  in- 
exorable standard  of  the  prophet 
of  Nazareth  ?  How  much  of  the  Al- 
truism and  spiritual  altitude  of  the 
world  to-day  is  due  to  that  blessed 
life,  lived  here  in  Nazareth?  And, 
on  the  contrary,  how  much  of  it  is 
involved  in  the  irresistible  unfold- 
ing of  the  race,  pushed  by  the  will 
of  God,  beckoned  by  ideals, — now 
clearly  and  now  dimly  revealed  to 
many  leaders  of  men? 
These  be  vital  questions,  Thom- 
as; but  you  and  I  have  always 
" marched  breast-forward,"  hold- 
ing our  philosophic  faith  in  Theism 
to  be  even  more  solidly  based  than 

42 


of  Nazar* tfj 

our  warm,  grateful  loyalty  to  that 
greatest  of  theists,  Jesus  the  Christ. 
I  cannot,  in  this  brief  letter,  say  all 
that  I  would  wish  to  say  on  that 
theme;  but  I  have  somewhat  to 
say,  in  this  letter,  and  in  later  let- 
ters, upon  a  corollary  of  that  the- 
orem. 

This,  Thomas:  Let  me  assume 
that  the  so-called  Christian  world 
is  more  pagan  than  we  like  to 
admit.  Let  me  take  for  granted, — 
that  which  theologians  and  devout 
thinkers  have  often  conceded  and 
lamented,  —  that  the  influence  of 
Christ's  life  and  effort  has  not  yet 
reached  the  fulness  of  fruition 
which  it  deserves;  then  arises  the 
question  "what  is  the  reason  for 
this  failure?"  This  I  ask  myself, 
here  in  Palestine,  more  earnestly 
than  I  asked  it  in  America  or  Eu- 
rope. What  did  Jesus  try  to  do? 
How  far  was  He  successful?  And 
why  has  His  success, — at  least  at 
present, — been  no  greater? 

(Here  I  must  close  this  letter;  I 

43 

••.  KXK??8>.  f 

«     ^     «     m 

$&  JS  £$  vV? 

.WSSSSSSSS^SSSSSS^SSl.'"       . 


3Hp  COprn 

have  just  been  summoned  by  a 
brown-faced,  bare-legged  boy,,  clad 
only  in  one  long  gray  garment,  to 
meet  a  learned  Russian  pilgrim, 
who  is  awaiting  me  at  the  Hos- 
pice.) 


44 


SlSSlSSlSHSSSlSSlKlSSSlSSlSlSSSlSlSSSiSlSlS^SSlS 

®. 

SIXTH  LETTER 


Nazareth, 
On  the  Hill-Top. 

MY  DEAR  THOMAS —Here, 
upon  this  rounded,  rocky 
hill,  above  the  white-walled 
village,  I  feel  my  soul  lulled  and 
stirred,  in  turn,  by  the  tides  of  the 
spirit ;  at  one  moment,  a  soft  brood- 
ing peace  is  wafted  to  my  senses  by 
the  serenity  of  the  landscape,  yet 
my  heart  quickens,  anon,  as  each 
hill  and  valley  seems  to  respond  to 
my  glance  with  a  swift,  glad  mes- 
sage, "His  eyes  rested  on  me,  on 
me."  Is  it  only  my  fancy  that 
under  that  penetrating  yet  tender 
glance  of  the  Master,  fertile  Es- 
draelon,  at  the  south,  must  have 
quickened  into  responsive  life,  and 
at  the  far  north,  proud  Hermon, 
clad  in  pure  samite,  shone  with  a 
splendor  before  unknown? 
Continuing,  however,  the  thread 
of  thought  which  I  broke  off  so 
abruptly,  yesterday,  I  wish  to 


45 


. 


. 


&m*t 


speak  of  what  I  have  come  to  call 
more  and  more  confidently  "The 
Secret  of  Jesus,"  or  "The  Open 
Secret  of  Nazareth." 
The  simplicity  of  this  Syrian  life, 

—  both  in  village  and  open  country, 

—  makes  a  deep  impression  upon 
me;  and,  as  I  try  to  penetrate  the 
meaning  of  Christ's  message,  and 
seek  a  sufficient  cause  for  its  slow 
advance  in  the  world,  I  return,  re- 
peatedly, to  this  primitive  mode  of 
human  life  ;  and  I  feel  that  only  in 
simplicity  of  human  living  can  that 
revelation  be  understood  which  in 
such  utter  simplicity  was  conceived 
and  affirmed.  Men  have  tried,  again 
and  again,  to  break  away  from  the 
complexity,  the  artificiality  which 
has  always   dogged  human   foot- 
steps, and  has  throttled  the  child- 
nature  in  the  advancing  race  ;  Will- 
iam Morris,  and  your  grandfather 
at  the  Brook  Farm,  and  scores  of 
names  which  I  might  cite,  were  all 
seeking  to  escape  the  thraldom  of 
material  luxuries.  The  great  Aure- 

46 


.•Ui*. 


B*HSZ52252S252SH525HSHSHSES2S25H5 


lius  declared  that  life  might  be 
nobly  lived,  even  in  a  palace;  so 
may  life  be  simply  lived  even  amid 
the  labor-saving  and  space-annihi- 
lating inventions  of  Europe  and 
America;  but  the  simple  life,  it 
must  be  admitted,  under  such  con- 
ditions, is  extremely  difficult;  al- 
though complexity  carries  at  its 
heart  simplicity,  yet  the  outer  husk 
is  tough,  and  the  kernel  will  come 
to  our  children  only  after  years  of 
effort. 

Out  of  the  simplicity  of  this  open- 
air  Eastern  life  was  the  Christian 
religion  born;  and  simple  that  re- 
ligion must  always  remain,  wher- 
ever taught  or  practised,  else  it 
vanishes.  I  am  reminded,  as  I 
glance  down  over  the  village-life 
beneath  me,  of  those  pictures  by 
Cranach,  which  played  such  an  im- 
portant part  in  the  reform  insti- 
tuted by  Luther  ;  the  painter  placed 
his  pictures  in  pairs  ;  each  pair  was 
composed  of  a  scene  from  the  plain 
life  which  Jesus  and  his  disciples 


fl&jmt  &*tutt  at 

must  have  lived,  and  a  scene  from 
the  luxurious,  arrogant  life  of  the 
Church's  leaders  in  Cranach's  time ; 
the  contrast  was  an  unanswerable 
indictment  of  the  official  Christian- 
ity of  Europe  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury. 

A  similar  condemning  contradic- 
tion confronts  me  here,  as  I  place 
this  simple  Syrian  life,  in  my 
thought,  in  contrast  with  the  great- 
er part  of  the  ecclesiastical  life, — 
Protestant,  Greek,  and  Roman, — 
in  Europe  and  America,  to-day. 
This  life  has  remained  what  it  was 
when  our  Master  shared  it ;  where- 
as the  recognized  church-life  of  the 
great  Western  World  stumbles 
among  pitfalls  of  worldly  luxury, 
and  strangles  itself  with  cords  of 
theological  complexity. 

Do  not  put  me  down,  dear  Thomas, 
as  a  misanthrope;  for  you  know 
well  that  I  am  not  that ;  but  receive 
my  thoughts  hospitably,  as  of  old, 
and  perhaps  we  may  come  nearer 
to  what  I  now  call,  with  increas- 

48 


»'  a 

w      ra 


ing  confidence,  "The  Open  Secret 
of  Nazareth."  Do  not  think  of  me 
as  carping,  enviously,  even  for  a 
moment;  for  the  Nazareth  light 
is  scattering  the  gloom  which  de- 
scended upon  me  at  Jerusalem ;  and 
the  Truth  which  I  am  coming  to 
"know,"  is  "setting  me  free." 

What  I  mean  to  convey,  when  I 
seem  to  be  inveighing  against  the 
complicated  soul-suicidal  life  of 
Europe  is  this; — I  would  not  stay 
the  hand  of  industry,  nor  blind  the 
eye  of  invention  and  discovery;  I 
would  not  urge  men  to  hark  back 
to  the  days  of  cave-life  and  un- 
cooked food;  it  is  not  what  men 
gain,  but  the  way  in  which  they 
gain  it, — that  is  the  most  important 
factor;  it  is  not  what  they  do,  but 
the  spirit  in  which  they  do  it, — that 
is  the  element  vital  to  the  Christian 
life,  and  is  the  element  which  is 
more  imperilled  by  the  complex  life 
of  Europe  and  America  than  by 
the  simpler  life  of  Nazareth. 

It  was  one  of  Walter  Pater's  rare 

$?     ^     i?     m     -® 

? 

m       m*      m  • 


5H52SH2HSKffiS»5H$HS 


sympathetic  insights  which  made 
him, — in  "Marius  the  Epicurean," 
I  believe,  —  depict  certain  proud 
ladies  of  luxurious  Roman  palaces, 
when  they  embraced  the  faith  of 
the  Nazarene,  as  experiencing  a 
revolution  in  their  attitude  toward 
the  simple  life  involved  in  the  con- 
ditions of  the  despised  sect;  they 
revolted  against  the  complexity  of 
their  former  life,  and  instinctively 
turned  with  longing  to  a  kind  which 
was  more  elemental. 

But  to  return  to  the  point  where 
I  broke  off  in  my  last  letter. 

I  have  my  Bible,  lying  beside  me 
here  on  the  rock ;  and  the  book  and 
the  rock  seem  alike  to  hold  their 
one  secret  in  common;  if  the  rock 
could  tell  all  that  it  has  seen  and 
heard,  or  if  the  sacred  volume  could 
yield  up  its  treasure  of  spiritual 
truth,  then  we  would  know,  far  bet- 
ter than  we  do,  the  purpose  of  God 
concerning  His  children,  through 
the  revelation  of  Him  whom  we 
call  "Our  Lord." 

50 


As  I  read,  and  read  again,  dear 
Thomas,  the  fragments  of  biogra- 
phy which  the  gospels  hold,  and 
as  I  reflect  on  the  words  of  our 
Lord,  —  all  too  meagrely  recorded, 
and  inadequately  reported,  —  I  am 
convinced  that  His  life  of  teaching, 
—considering  that  apart  from  His 
life  of  ministering  to  sorrow  and 
suffering,  —  was  a  continuous  effort 
to  impart  a  secret.  I  believe  that 
"The  secret  of  the  Most  High" 
dwelt  with  Him  ;  and  His  one  great 
effort,  so  far  as  He  appealed  to  the 
minds,  the  intellects  of  men,  was  to 
convey  to  them  what  God  had  first 
conveyed  to  Him. 

In  this  respect  Jesus  differed 
from  most  of  the  religious  teachers 
of  the  world  ;  the  priests  of  Isis,  the 
devotees  of  the  Greek  "Mysteries," 
and  most  religions  and  religious 
leaders  have  been  esoteric  in  their 
cults;  they  have  named  hard  con- 
ditions with  which  their  neophytes 
must  comply  ;  they  have  been  indif- 


ferent to  the  wish  or  need  of  the 


51 

.  2  £'. 


a      &  »      s* 


multitude;  they  have  even  sought 
to  hide  their  treasures  from  the  vul- 
gar eye  and  ear.  But  how  different 
was  the  method  of  Jesus!  He  of- 
fered his  secret,  without  reserva- 
tion; He  aimed  at  giving  what  He 
had,  without  money  and  without 
price. 

But,  alas,  He  could  not  impart  it ; 
to  but  few,  at  the  best;  that  is  the 
sad  reflection  which  haunts  me  as 
I  turn  the  pages  of  the  gospels. 
' '  He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him 
hear!"  That  was  the  sorrowful  ca- 
dence, in  a  minor  key,  which  closed 
so  many  of  His  joyful  messages 
of  inspiring  truth.  Evidently  He 
sought  to  tell  the  people  something 
which  God  had  told  Him;  and  the 
humble  Aramaic  tongue  was  in- 
adequate ;  as  would  have  been,  also, 
the  most  highly  differentiated  lan- 
guage of  Demosthenes,  or  Cicero,  or 
Sainte-Beuve.  Among  the  prophets 
of  Israel  who  preceded  our  Lord  I 
do  not  recall  one  who  seemed  so 
eager  to  impart,  yet  so  baffled  in  his 

52 


"t<V 

•-'•  ? 


SSSS^ 


attempts  to  make  clear  His  mes- 
sage; Jeremiah,  Ezekiel,  Hosea, 
and  the  Isaiahs,  all  felt  the  bur- 
den of  sin  which  they  struggled 
against;  but  their  difficulty  was  in 
the  flaunting  iniquity  or  sullen  in- 
ertia of  the  people,  rather  than  in 
the  people's  mental  and  spiritual 
blindness;  hence  the  prophets  of 
ancient  Israel  offer  but  rarely  that 
touching  plaint  of  baffled  sympa- 
thy, "He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let 
him  hear!" 

This  is  the  point  which  I  urge, 
Thomas,  as  I  read  my  Bible,  here 
in  the  light  of  a  Syrian  sun,  and  as 
I  interweave,  with  my  reading, 
glances  at  Nazareth  and  Mount  Ta- 
bor, and  at  snowy  Hermon  in  the 
far  north,  —  that  our  Blessed  Lord 
and  Divine  Teacher  was  exoteric 
and  not  esoteric,  in  His  mind  and 
method.  That  is  not  a  wholly  new 
truth  to  me;  I  remember  when  I 


first  vaguely  grasped  it;  you  have 
not  forgotten  that  strange  man, 
Mohini,  the  Brahmin  from  India, 

Kjl 

99 

^33££8£  ££*&&  $$££&£  &$&£*&  SKSSSSS  ; 

njj^.KXK*    yj!»>.*'AW>.   35>.yj>.X4>.    ?&.?&.#$>.'  w.yp,w>.    ,r 


B  » 


_.*!»>. 


Sttp  O&jmt 

and  our  conference  with  him  at 
Mrs.  W 's,  in  Boston.  You  re- 
member how  subtle  was  his  charm 
and  how  fine  were  his  mental  proc- 
esses; but  you  probably  do  not  re- 
call, as  clearly  as  do  I,  what  was 
his  reply  when  I  asked  why  he  did 
not  promulgate  his  beautiful  en- 
nobling ideas  among  the  people  at 
large. 

His  brief  answer  was, — made  with 
calm,  luminous  eyes  and  softly 
modulated  speech, — "Why  should 
I?" 

Ah,  Thomas,  there  was  the  eso- 
teric mystic  speaking.  That  was 
the  point  where  he  departed,  essen- 
tially, from  the  World's  Greatest 
Teacher,  Jesus  of  Nazareth;  "Why 
should  he  ?"  and  why  should  Jesus  ? 
And  why  indeed  did  Jesus  seek  to 
bring  His  secret  to  all,  to  even  the 
humblest, — the  humblest  according 
to  the  egotistic  world's  standards! 
It  was  because  "the  Spirit  of  God 
was  upon  Him,"  and  compelled 
Him  to  expression.  The  fire,  which 

54, 

/•j-'    .  •  •''.*.     '»'.-•'.: ••••  '.'.^'.     !*£>.!&£&*     >-.,.-•'].. . '.  /  '..',     - 

m      g£      ss      ss      i 


®tp  %nt  &m*t  nf  Nazarrtlj 

God  had  kindled  upon  the  altar  of 
His  heart,  enlightened  and  quick- 
ened not  only  His  own  nature,  but 
shone  forth  through  the  shutterless 
windows  of  His  pure  soul,  radiat- 
ing light  and  life  to  all  about  Him. 
Therefore  it  was  predetermined, 
when  He  sent  His  apostles  forth  on 
their  mission,  that  His  exoteric  com- 
mand should  be  world-wide  in  its 
scope.  "Go  ye  into  all  the  world,' '. 
He  said,  "and  preach  the  gospel  to 
every  creature !"  Ah,  the  esoteric' 
teachers  and  adepts  of  the  world 
never  "spake  as  this  man  spake.", 
There  were  the  Quietists,  for  ex- 
ample ;  from  famous  Molinos  down 
to  the  weakest  and  least  renowned, 
they  failed  to  exemplify  the  atti- 
tude of  Jesus;  they  were  esoteric, 
egoistic;  and,  in  being  that,  they 
were  but  partially  Christian. 
Jesus  had  a  secret  which  He  fer- 
vently sought  to  impart;  and  the 
fallibility  of  human  speech  was  not 
His  only  barrier;  if  He  had  been 
a  jurist,  He  might  easily  have  im- 

55 


Qttf*  GDpwt  l&rrrt  nf  £fear*tlf 

parted  statute  after  statute,  and 
the  world  would  have  held  one  more 
Code,  to  add  to  the  great  codes  of 
Justinian  and  Napoleon. 

If  our  Lord  had  been  simply  a 
great  theologian  or  moralist, — as 
many  of  His  loving  but  mistaken 
expounders  have  understood  Him 
to  be, — His  teachings  could  have 
been  conveyed  as  easily  as  those  of 
Hillel  and  Schammai,  and  could 
have  been  learned  by  rote  through- 
out the  world.  But  He  was  a  poet 
and  a  seer;  and  His  Secret  was 
deeper  than  any  which  was  ever 
taught  in  Sanscrit  or  Greek,  in 
Arabic  or  English ;  it  lay  in  a  field 
deeper  and  more  inaccessible  than 
the  fields  cultivated  by  Confucius 
or  Pythagoras  or  Sakya  Mouni. 
Little  wonder,  then,  that  He  strug- 
gled, with  but  partial  success,  to 
impart  that  Secret  to  all  who  would 
listen. 

At  this  moment,  Thomas,  there 
flits  across  my  mind  the  recollec- 
tion of  an  incident  far  back  in  our 

56 


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.V^,  V 

joint  Sunday-School  life ;  probably 
you  have  forgotten  it ;  but  I  remem- 
ber distinctly,  —  perhaps  because 
of  the  shock  it  gave  me, — a  ques- 
tion which  you  asked  the  solemn, 
be-spectacled,  theological  student 
whom  we  had  for  teacher,  one  year. 
We  were  reading  about  the  laws 
given  to  Moses,  written  upon  the 
tables  of  stone  by  the  finger  of  God ; 
and  you  calmly  and  honestly  in- 
quired if  God  wrote  those  laws  in 
Hebrew,  and  if  He  could  have  writ- 
ten them  in  Greek  or  Assyrian.  A 
proper  question,  certainly,  but  it 
startled  me,  as  it  did  the  student- 
teacher. 

Perhaps  it  is  only  a  maturer  ex- 
pression of  the  same  inquiry  to 
which  I  am  moved  as  I  here  ask 
myself,  "What  was  the  means  of 
communication,  yes,  what  was  the 
mystic  language  by  which  the  Al- 
mighty conveyed  to  His  Chosen 
Son, — here  perhaps  on  this  very 
hill-top,  —  messages  of  Infinite 
Love  and  of  Eternal  Truth?" 


57 


BSB5  S3S8S  8B8B8 


£ljr  (Dpnt  irr  ret  of 

My  thought,  as  I  think  aloud, 
freely  before  you,  my  old  and  tried 
friend,  runs  thus; — that  as  cosmic 
ether  underlies  our  earth's  atmos- 
phere, so  the  ether  of  God's  spirit 
underlies  all  language, — not  only 
spoken  and  written  language,  but 
thought  language  as  well;  and 
through  that  rare  medium  came 
God's  message  to  the  young  proph- 
et; it  came  as  the  light  vibrations 
come  through  the  vast  void  of  the 
empyrean,  in  darkness  and  mystery, 
becoming  light  and  light-bearing 
only  when  they  touch  our  earth  and 
its  envelope  of  air.  Thus  the  Al- 
mighty Father  spoke  to  Jesus  the 
Christ;  and  to  Jesus  the  message 
was  clear ;  but  ah,  how  to  translate 
it  into  the  vocables  of  human  lan- 
guage! 


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SEVENTH  LETTER 
fg 

Nazareth, 
Casa  Nuova  Hospice. 

MY  DEAE  THOMAS —I  look 
from  my  window,  here  on 
the  eastern  side  of  this  gray 
old  monastery,  and  gaze  upon  the 
primitive  life  of  the  village ;  across 
the  narrow  street,  in  a  carpenter's 
shop,  a  man  and  a  boy  are  working, 


with  quaint,  simple  tools,  quite  in 

•flip   fiprlafp    -filial    wav  in    whir>Ti    TTp 


the  sedate,  filial  way  in  which  He 
must  have  worked  with  His  father 
Joseph. 

Just  beyond  the  level  sky-line  of 
the  flat-roofed  house  opposite  me 
I  see  a  small  caravan  of  Bedouin 
Arabs  drawing  near  the  village 
gate,  coming  to  barter  sheep  and 
goats  for  the  simple  necessaries 
of  their  nomadic  life.  Picturesque 
creatures  are  those  Arabs ;  many  a 
dignified  old  sheikh  have  I  seen, 
with  gray  beard  and  deep-set  eyes, 
who  might  well  represent  one  of  the 
Old  Testament  patriarchs.  I  am 

m 

88BSE  88SSI 


bHSHSSHSE5E5HE5SaS252ffiSSH5^^ 


at 


glad  that  we  have  such  pictures  as 
Tissot  has  given  us,  to  correct  the 
falsities  of  the  classic  painters  ;  the 
German  artist  painted  persons  and 
places  in  Germany;  the  Italian 
painted  those  of  Italy;  the  Dutch 
painted  life  in  the  Low  Countries  ; 
and  each  offered  his  work  as  an 
illustration  of  the  life,  physical  and 
social,  which  Jesus  lived  in  the 
Holy  Land;  but  the  world's  steady 
march  toward  truth  demands,  to- 
day, the  more  truthful  portrayal  of 
Palestine  and  the  human  condi- 
tions there  found. 
However,  I  stop  my  musing  and 
take  up  the  thread  of  my  real  mes- 
sage to  you,  Thomas.  I  must  con- 
vey to  you,  as  clearly  as  I  may, 
in  writing,  my  sense  of  the  aim 
of  Christ's  living  and  teaching  in 
this  land  of  Palestine.  I  feel  my- 
self to  be  close  to  Him,  —  my  Mas- 
ter, here  in  undisturbed  primitive 
Nazareth;  yes,  my  fancy  so  buds 
and  blossoms,  that  as  I  gaze,  in  a 
day-dream,  down  over  these  lanes 

60 


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vi Ip  (Djmt  &*rr*t  of  3fasar*tlf 

.^.. 

and  alleys,  I  would  not  be  greatly 
surprised  to  see  Him,  Him, — the 
centre  of  my  soul's  devotion, — 

«/ 

moving,  in  serenity  and  sympathy, 
along  the  narrow  street  beneath 
my  window,  with  throngs  about 
Him,  and  the  children  clinging  to 
His  hands.  If  only  .  .  .  But  stop! 
There  comes  a  man, — a  village  ar- 
tizan,  I  judge,  by  his  dress, — who 
might  well  be  Simon  Peter  him- 
self, so  firm  is  his  stride,  so  self- 
reliant  the  poise  of  his  bare,  griz- 
zled head,  so  bold  the  glance  of  his 
eye.  I  can  see  plainly  the  features 
of  his  weather-beaten  face.  Surely 
such  a  man  was  " Bar-jona"  him- 
his  hands  are  knotted  and 
stained  with  toil,  yet  his  heart, — 
ah,  how  difficult  for  me  to  read  the 
character  of  the  inner  man!  How 
unable  am  I  to  see  through  the 
mask  of  the  flesh,  as  He  saw,  who 
"knew  what  was  in  man."  It  was 
such  a  human  figure  as  this, — 
strong,  uncouth,  intrepid,  passion- 
ate, elemental,  that  our  Divine 


self; 


61 


®lp  ODjmt  &*roi  af  -Btetrrtlj 


Lord  looked  upon,  nay  looked  into, 
and  called  into  intensest  life  the 
slumbering  divine  element  hidden 
beneath  so  rugged  an  envelope. 
For,  later,  it  was  nothing  less  than 
a  breath  of  the  Almighty  Himself 
which  spoke  through  the  passion- 
ate tribute  of  aroused  Peter  to  his 
beloved  Master,  "Thou  are  the 
Christ,  the  Son  of  the  Living  God." 
That  was  the  quickening  power 
which  our  Blessed  Lord  exercised 
over  many  rough  and  even  sordid 
lives,  evoking  the  divine  from  the 

o  . 

human,  summoning  men  from  the 
death  of  monotonous,  stupefying 
routine  to  the  intense  life  of  the 
present  Holy  Spirit  of  God. 

But  alas,  all  that  was  so  long,  so 
very  long  ago !  Oh,  Thomas,  if  only 
the  Almighty  One,  who  creates  and 
governs  the  mysterious  current  of 
Time,  would  deign  to  reverse  that 
current,  would  summon  the  Past 
and  bid  it  stand  as  a  substitute  for 
the  Present,  —  for  one  brief  mo- 
ment, that  mine  eyes  might  behold 

62 

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Him,  my  beloved  Master,  I  know 
that  I  would  see  Him,  not  as  "un- 
lovely, like  a  root  out  of  dry 
ground,"  but  I  would  see  Him 
in  His  glory,  and  I  would  cry, 
"Enough!  Mine  eyes  have  seen  thy 
salvation;  now  let  thy  servant  de- 
part in  peace!" 

Ah,  Thomas,  dear  friend,  I  know 
you  so  well  that  I  can  see  the  smile 
with  which  you  read  that  outburst. 
Yet  the  smile  does  not  wound  me, 
for  I  know  the  gentle,  tender  sym- 
pathy which  you  can  feel  for  a  tem- 
perament less  reasonably  consist- 
ent than  your  own. 

CJ/-k     T    Trr-ill     n  •*%/•»«!*•     n-t-     f\in  nn     /-v-P    -n-rK  o  4-    T 


So  I  will  speak  at  once  of  what  I 
call  "The  Open  Secret  of  Naza- 
reth." I  will  try  to  state  what 


Jesus  seems  to  me  to  have  striven 
to  impart,  here  in  this  village,  and 
by  the  sea  of  Galilee,  yonder,  and 
at  Jerusalem,  lordly  in  her  servi- 
tude, and  dreaming  of  a  temporal 
glory  which  never  came. 
The  vital  teaching  of  our  Master 
is  to  be  found,  I  believe,  in  His 


of 

parables.  I  will  leave  as  wide  a  mar- 
gin as  even  you,  doubting  Thomas, 
would  wish,  for  distrust  concern- 
ing accuracy  of  translation  and  au- 
thenticity of  tradition;  and  I  then 
have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that 
the  fundamental  teaching  of  Jesus, 
— His  "Open  Secret,"  if  I  may  so 
call  it, — is  to  be  found  in  His  para- 
bles; many  of  His  sayings  which 
are  handed  down  to  us.  Those,  for 

j 

example,  comprised  in  what  we  call 
"The  Sermon  on  the  Mount"  are 
the  outbursts  of  a  passionate  poet 
and  prophet;  they  are  the  spon- 
taneous emotional  utterances  of  a 
mystical  nature,  filled  with  the 
sense  of  Fatherhood  and  Brother- 
hood ;  and,  although  they  have  come 
down  to  us  in  a  form  which  gives 
them  the  appearance  of  didactic 
intention,  they  are  not  the  words  of 
Jesus  the  Teacher  as  much  as  of 
Jesus  the  Poet,  the  Mystic,  the  rapt 
lover  of  Divine  Beauty. 

The  one  oft-repeated  message  of 
His  life,  consistent  with  itself  and 

64 


harmonious  with  the  inner  continu- 
ous love  of  His  life,  was  contained 
in  the  parables. 

In  the  standard  books  on  this  sub- 
ject you  will  find  various  classifica- 
tions of  those  significant  utterances 
of  Jesus;  but  I  place  little  confi- 
dence in  such  cut-and-dried  group- 
ings. Rather  do  I  see,  in  more  than 
half  of  the  thirty  recorded  para- 
bles, the  earnest  attempt  on  the 
part  of  Jesus  to  tell  His  secret; 
and  that  secret  was  called  by  Him 
"The  Kingdom  of  Heaven, "  or 
"  The  Kingdom  of  God. " 

By  this, — if  I  may  dare  to  say  or 
even  think  that  I  have  read  His 
words  with  an  understanding  heart, 

—by  the  "Kingdom  of  Heaven" 
He  meant  no  outward  social  order, 
no  political  re-grouping  of  human 
beings,  no  revolt  against  Imperial 
Rome  and  the  raising  of  a  new  na- 
tional banner;  but  it  was  an  inner 
condition  of  each  individual  man 
and  woman. 


You  are  not  surprised  at  that, 


of 


Thomas  ;  and  I  hear  you  say,  frank- 
ly, "This  is  nothing  new,  Barti- 
metis;  others  have  said  it." 
True  !  But  let  me  specify  more  ex- 


actly, step  by  step.  This  kingdom,  I 
repeat,  is  not  outward  but  inward; 
not  of  matter  and  material  objects, 
but  of  the  spirit.  Very  good ;  but  of 
what  part  of  the  spirit  ?  What  ele- 
ment of  subjective  human  life  is 
the  essential  one  ? 
Not  the  purely  intellectual;  not 
the  mental,  ultimately.  For  correct 
thinking  about  God  and  our  fellow- 
men  does  not  lie  at  the  root  of 
Christ's  message;  and,  as  I  write 
that,  I  recall  the  Church  Councils 
and  Synods,  the  hair-splitting  spec- 
ulations of  theologians,  and  the 
cries  of  agonized  human  lips  on 
the  rack  or  at  the  stake.  All  that 
zealous,  cruel  effort  to  direct  the  in- 
tellectual conclusions  of  men  con- 
cerning the  religion  of  Christ,  all 
that  frenzy  for  creeds  was  misap- 
plied and  was  born  of  spiritual 
ignorance. 

66 
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BJSBBEESeSiZSSHiffiaHHSEHS^^ 

rU 


Again,  emotion,  even  the  highest 
kind,  like  that  in  penitence  or  as- 
piration, was  not  the  end  sought  by 
Jesus  the  prophet-teacher;  and  I 
recall  the  waves  of  enthusiasm  and 
the  tides  of  fanaticism  which  have 
swept  over  Christendom,  since  our 
era  begun ;  they  were  misconceived, 
Thomas,  and  were  but  indirectly 
related  to  the  Master  whose  gospel 
they  sought  to  advance. 

No,  Thomas,  it  was  not  man's 
thought  nor  his  emotions, — but  it 
was  man's  will  that  Jesus  sought 
to  convert;  and  His  "Secret"  was 
simply  this:  that  a  human  being 
should  will  what  God  wills;  this 
was  the  kernel  of  the  message 
brought  to  man  by  that  Holy  One, 
whose  "meat  it  was  to  do  His 
Father's  WiU." 

By  direct  revelation  from  above 
did  Jesus,  the  great  Son  of  God, 
learn  that  God's  Will,  streaming 
ceaselessly  through  the  universe,  is 
a  force  which  moves  always  toward 

The  Best";  and  "The  Best,"  in 
67 


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the  physical  universe,  is  man  ;  and 


" 


The  Best,"  in  man's  life,  is  Love; 
Jesus  yielded  to  the  sweet  compul- 
sion from  His  Father  ;  He  put  Him- 
self "In  tune  with  the  Infinite,"  as 
has  been  well  said  by  some,  and  He 
willed  good  toward  the  men  and 
women  and  children  about  Him. 

Possibly,  my  dear  Thomas,  this 
exposition,  thus  briefly  made,  seems 
to  you  all  too  simple.  Be  patient! 
And  open-minded,  —  as  always! 
And  let  me  unfold  and  explain. 
Perhaps  there  is  more  in  it  than 
you  realize;  perhaps  the  "Open 
Secret"  is  more  elusive  than  you 
think;  and  perhaps,  for  that  rea- 
son, the  Great  Teacher  Himself 
found  difficulty  in  imparting  it, 
and  used  the  many  parables  which 
we  have  on  record. 

Even  Eenan,  —  who  ought  to  ap- 
peal to  you,  Thomas,  more  than  he 
does  to  others  of  us,  —  even  the 
famous  and  acute  French  scholar 
and  thinker,  in  his  steps  of  investi- 
gation and  analysis  of  "The  Life 

68 


BjESHSHSeSESHSHSHESffiffiaS^ 

Sttp  ODpwt  &m?t  of  Nazarrtlf 

of  Jesus,"  falls  short  of  the  ulti- 
mate insight;  he  halts  at  the  most 
important  step.  I  have  his  charm- 
ing "Vie  de  Jesus"  here  beside  me, 
and  I  find  him  summing  up  the 
teaching  of  Jesus  in  this  way: 
"Jesus  often  declares  that  the 
Kingdom  of  God  has  already  com- 
menced, that  every  man  carries  it 
in  himself,  and  may,  if  he  be 
worthy,  enjoy  it;  that  each  creates 
this  kingdom  quietly  by  the  true 
conversion  of  the  heart.  The  King- 
dom of  God,"  continues  Renan, 
"is  then  only  the  good,  an  order 
of  things  better  than  that  which 
already  exists;  the  reign  of  jus- 
tice, which  the  faithful,  each  ac- 
cording to  his  ability,  should  aid  to 
forward;  or,  again,  the  liberty  of 
the  soul,  something  analogous  to 
the  Buddhist  *  Deliverance/  the 
fruit  of  freedom." 
All  of  which,  Thomas,  is  clumsy 
and  shallow,  as  an  insight  into 
Christ's  "Open  Secret";  Renan 
only  half  understands  the  prophet 
69 

R&B&SS  JSS8&  S&&M3  JS8&S 


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of  God  whom  he  tried,  earnestly, 


lovingly,  —  yet  often  condescend- 
ingly,— to  explain  to  the  world. 
Renan's  grasp  on  Christ's  "idea" 
is  loose;  his  comprehension  is 
vague;  he  sees  that  Jesus  was  an 
idealist,  and  therefore  assumes 
that  he  aimed  to  establish  an  ideal 
social  order;  when,  in  truth,  Jesus 
aimed  at  the  individual  and  not  at 
the  group.  Eenan  sees  that  Jesus 
mentioned ' '  The  Good, ' '  but  has  not 
perceived  that  "The  Good,"  as  con- 
ceived by  the  Greeks  and  others,  is 
merely  static ;  whereas  Jesus  aimed 
at  no  static  abstraction,  but  aimed 
to  direct  that  active,  urgent  element 
in  human  character,  which  is 
known  as  the  will ;  Jesus  sought, — 
not  "The  Good,"  as  Greece  under- 
stood it,  which  is  a  mere  inert  con- 
dition, and  a  threatening  stagna- 
tion; but  He  proclaimed  "The 
Good  Will" — which  is  active,— 
ceaselessly  constructive, — revolu- 
tionary,— and  evolutionary. 
The  human  will  is  as  difficult  of 

70 

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'definition  as  anything  I  know  in 
the  world ;  you  and  I  gained  much, 
Thomas,  last  winter,  when  we  read 
Dr.  William  James's  thoughtful 
work  on  that  subject;  but,  in  the 
last  analysis,  the  will  defies  cate- 
gorical definition,  does  it  not  ?  It  is 
a  living  thing,  like  a  strain  of  music 
or  a  flame;  the  piano  wire  which 
stands  back  of  the  strain  of  music, 
and  the  candle-wick  which  stands 
back  of  the  flame,  are  things,  ma- 
terial objects,  continuously  exist- 
ent through  seconds  and  minutes, 
whether  or  not  the  music  sounds  or 
the  flame  ascends;  but  the  music 
and  the  flame  themselves  are  exist- 
ent only  in  action ;  if  they  cease  to 
"do,"  they  die,  they  are  not;  so 
with  the  human  will ;  it  lives,  only 
as  it  acts ;  it  "is,"  only  as  it  does. 
This  is  the  subtle,  elusive  centre 
of  the  individual  human  life,  which 
Jesus  aimed  to  reach ;  He  sought  to 
make  it  act  as  the  will  of  God  acts, 
toward  the  progress  of  mankind,  in 
widening  circles  of  well-being. 


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Say  not,  doubting  Thomas,  that 
this  is  simple,  all  too  simple.  For 
I  assert  that  the  Christian  Church 
has  almost  continuously  overlooked 
it;  the  ideal  Christ  of  the  Church 
has  nearly  always  been  conceived  as 
a  passive  Christ,  as  a  person  endur- 
ing and  suffering  patiently.  Nearly 
all  the  paintings  and  the  poems  and 
the  prayers  of  the  Christian  ages 
have  assumed  or  directly  upheld 
this  negative  ideal ;  they  have  mis- 
understood the  "idea"  of  Jesus; 
and  His  parables  about  the  pearl  of 
great  price,  the  leaven,  the  mus- 
tard-seed, and  a  score  of  others, — 
which,  when  they  were  uttered,  fell 
on  ears  that  could  not  hear, — have 
been  read,  since  His  day,  by  eyes 
that  could  not  see. 

But  I  must  not  weary  you ;  and  I 
somewhat  hastily  finish  this  letter, 
as  the  shadows  of  the  evening  sift 
into  this  peaceful  little  valley,  and 
lighted  candles  glimmer  in  the 
doorways  of  many  of  the  white- 
walled  houses. 

72   & 


M 


EIGHTH  LETTER 

Mary's  Well, 

Nazareth. 

Y  DEAR  THOMAS— i  have 

just  come  from  the  village 
fountain,  at  the  eastern  end 
of  the  town,  where  I  have  been 
watching,  with  profound  interest, 
the  wives,  mothers,  and  daughters 
of  the  village,  drawing  water  and 
gossiping,  precisely  as  they  must 
have  acted  in  the  olden  times.  There 
is  no  reason  to  doubt  but  that  the 
women  of  Jesus'  family  came  hith- 
er and  chatted  and  laughed. 
The  Syrian  costume,  with  its  flow- 
ing drapery  and  bright  head-dress, 
is  striking  and  attractive.  When  I 
was  at  Bethlehem  I  was  told  that 
the  women-folk  there  were  famed 
for  their  beauty,  which  had  descend- 
ed to  them  from  intermarriages  of 
their  ancestors  with  Crusaders ;  the 
head-dress  of  the  women  at  Bethle- 
hem is-  singularly  ornamental,  and 
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of  Nazarrtlj 

I  think  it  has  added  materially  to 
the  charms  of  its  wearers,  and 
tourists  have  hastily  ascribed  more 
to  the  faces  themselves  than  was 
due  them;  but  my  own  judgment 
is  that  the  women  of  Nazareth  are 
quite  as  beautiful  as  those  of  Beth- 
lehem. 

Dr.  Selah  Merrill,  our  American 
Consul  at  Jerusalem,  who  speaks 
with  authority,  told  me  that  he  be- 
lieved that  the  mental  and  moral 
quality  of  the  Nazareth  villagers 
was  at  least  as  high  in  the  time 
of  Christ  as  now,  and  probably 
higher;  so  that,  as  I  silently  stud- 
ied the  faces  and  gestures  of  the 
women  at  the  fountain,  I  felt  justi- 
fied in  my  tender  fancies  and  senti- 
ments toward  them  and  their  an- 
cestors. As  to  the  well  itself,  there 
is  no  reasonable  doubt  whatever 
about  its  identity.  The  village  has 
now,  —  and  must  always  have  had, 
—  this  one  source  of  water-supply. 
So  that  I  felt  myself  to  be  very 
near  the  Sacred  Past,  as  I  gazed 

74 


and  mused;  and  I  can  take  up  my 
letter  to  you  with  earnestness  and 
sympathy. 

If  I  remember  correctly,  I  said, 
last  of  all,  that  "The  Secret  of 
Nazareth,"  the  "Message"  of 
Jesus,  was  that  each  man  and  wom- 
an must  will  good  toward  God  and 
toward  man.  In  the  elusiveness  of 
the  element  of  the  human  will,  in  its 
difficulty  of  definition, — especially 
among  simple  people  who  lived  in 
this  primitive  land  two  thousand 
years  ago, — in  this  lay  the  diffi- 
culty for  the  Great  Teacher,  of  dis- 
closing His  secret.  Not  only  was 
their  experience  limited,  as  listen- 
ers, and  their  vocabulary  meagre, 
but  His  own  knowledge  of  His  own 
great  truth  was  probably  His, — not 
in  abstract  form,  not  as  a  philo- 
sophic formula,  but  as  a  method  of 
life,  a  rhythmic  theme  of  human 
daily  intercourse,  subject  to  limit- 
less variations ;  He  usually  stated  it 
picturesquely,  in  trope  and  story, 
after  the  Eastern  fashion;  when 

75 


jj  < 

'Me 


(Iff?  03  pnt  *crr?t  of  Nazarrtlf 

ru 

He  sought  to  use  His  briefest  form 
of  statement,  He  said,  "It  is  within 
you, — this  kingdom,  this  reign  of 
love."  The  very  Greek  word,  Basi- 
leia,  kingdom,  carries  the  idea  of 
force  rather  than  of  passive  condi- 
tion ;  yet  Jesus,  when  He  sought  to 
specify  what  part  of  the  "within 
you"  He  meant,  always  broke  out 
with  fancy  and  imagery; — "The 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  ...  is  like 
unto  .  .  ." 

One  of  the  difficulties  in  the  way 
of  our  Western  minds'  understand- 
ing the  active  transforming  ele- 
ment involved  in  Christ's  exalta- 
tion of  the  will  is  that  the  words 
"Good-will,"  have  come,  through 
popular  usage,  to  have  a  mild  neu- 
tral flavor  of  insipid  acquiescence. 
Therefore,  Thomas,  I  charge  you, 
as  you  read,  and  whenever  you 
read,  from  this  point  on,  in  these 
letters,  the  words  * '  Good  Will, ' '  un- 
derstand them  to  mean  the  most 
active,  insistent  element  in  human 
character;  and  that  is  precisely 

76 


(®jmi  &m*i 

what  Jesus  sought  to  convey,  by 
"The  Pearl  of  Great  Price,"  "The 
Leaven,"  and  other  fanciful  ex- 
pressions. In  order  for  us  to  under- 
stand the  dynamic  quality  of  the 
"Open  Secret  of  Nazareth"  we  who 
speak  the  English  language  must 
first  de-polarize  our  words  "will," 
"good  will,"  "willing,"  and  sim- 
ilar terms.  I  can  recall  a  shiftless 
farmer  of  New  Hampshire  who 
often  worked  for  his  thriftier 
neighbors, — among  them  my  grand- 
father; the  inefficient  fellow  was 
always  optimistic  and  noisily  de- 
vout; and  he  was  frequently  de- 
scribed by  others  as  "willing"; 
which  meant, — in  the  New  England 
vernacular,  —  even-tempered,  and 
acquiescent  in  all  commands  given 
Mm. 

Thus  the  word  "willing"  was  used 
to  mean  the  extreme  opposite  of  its 
literal  signification;  it  was  trans- 
ferred from  its  proper  sense  of  ac- 
tivity, energy,  to  inert  compliance 
and  passivity. 

77 

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SZS25E525ESHSJSE5HSH525ESH5KS2S 


In  a  similar  way,  most  of  us  fre- 
quently say,  "I  am  willing,"  when 
we  by  no  means  use  the  root  "will" 
in  its  real  meaning  ;  for,  as  we  use 
the  phrase,  we  express  no  effort  of 
will,  but  instead,  entire  absence  of 
will,  mild  concession  or  compliance. 

Thus  I  seek  to  make  clear  the  true 
etymological  meaning  of  the  word 
"will,"  in  order  that  you  and  I 
may  better  understand  the  depth 
of  the  "Good-Will"  message  which 
Jesus  bore  to  the  world,  and  that 
we  may  the  more  surely  "have  ears 
to  hear"  what  He  sought  to  impart. 

Had  Count  Tolstoi  penetrated  to 
the  centre  of  Christ's  Secret  he 
would  never  have  affirmed  his  doc- 
trine of  "Non-Resistance,"  as  a 
characteristic  teaching  of  Jesus; 
for  Jesus  did  not  teach,  and  did  not 
exemplify  in  His  life,  that  innocu- 
ous negation  ;  there  are  three  possi- 
ble attitudes,  Thomas,  toward  the 
man  who  does  you  harm,  as  by 
theft  or  physical  force:  first,  you 
may  retaliate  upon  your  enemy 

78 


* tt 


with  conduct  similar  to  Ms  own ;  or, 
second, — what  Tolstoi  sees, — you 
may  dumbly  and  unresistingly  sub- 
mit ;  and,  third, — what  Tolstoi  does 
not  see, — you  may  return  to  him 
love  for  hate,  benefit  for  injury, 
good-will  for  ill-will.  This  is  the 
high  aggressive  level  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  of  God,  whereon  Jesus  stood ; 
and  any  interpretation  of  His  glori- 
ous gospel  or  His  marvellous  life, 
which  makes  Him  negative  and 
submissive  solely,  but  lamely  ex- 
presses His  high  and  holy  nature. 
When  I  looked  upon  that  singu- 
lar drama,  "The  Passion  Play  of 
Oberammagau,"  I  was  disappoint- 
ed, for  a  time,  in  the  character  of 
"Christus."  But  afterward,  on  re- 
flection, I  saw  that  the  " Play"  gave 
only  one  element  of  Christ's  char- 
acter, and  gave  that  excellently, — 
namely,  the  " Passion,"  the  sub- 
missive situations  in  His  experi- 
ence; while  the  dominating  note, 
the  vital  element  in  that  divine  life, 
was  quite  disregarded,  or  barely. 


79 


588? 


c 
u 
l> 

a'  "*  V*;' "  B 

hinted  at,  as  in  the  temple-scene 
with  the  money-changers. 

Therefore,  Thomas,  I  write  with 
conviction  and  sympathy  as  I  tell 
you  that  in  coming  to  Nazareth  I 
have  been  led  into  the  light ;  I  dare 
affirm  that  Jesus  sounded  the  depth 
of  human  nature  when  he  aimed 
to  bring  the  human  will  into  har- 
mony with  the  Divine  Will ;  indeed, 
shall  we  not  say  that  when  the  Hu- 
man Will  wills  good  toward  God 
and  Man,  it  becomes  one  with  the 
Divine  Force  which  permeates  and 
sustains  and  ever  re-creates  the 
universe;  we  speak  of  " Force" 
when  we  explain  the  physical  phe- 
nomena,— gravitation,  heat,  elec- 
tricity, and  others;  but  it  is  all  a 
part  of  the  Divine  "Will."  That 
force  which  we  know  most  directly, 
because  a  part  of  ourselves,  we  call 
"Will."  Let  that  same  word  be 
applied  to  the  movements  of 
the  "Not-Ourselves"  as  well;  to 
the  organic  and  inorganic  world 
around  us!  Our  springs  of  action 

80 


reveal  those  of  our  Maker;  our 
"Will':  explains  His  WiU;  the 
brutes  also  will  and  act,  and  there- 
fore manifest  God,  in  some  degree ; 
but  their  acts  are  on  a  lower  plane 
than  ours;  and  they  less  manifest 
the  Divine  Will ;  at  the  moment  of 
human  unselfishness,  at  the  point 
of  human  will-action  for  benefi- 
cence, God  comes  most  fully  to 
Himself,  and  is  re-incarnated.  If 
you  will  look  closely  at  the  Greek 
of  the  significant  passage  in  St. 
John's  Gospel, — the  seventh  chap- 
ter, the  seventeenth  verse,  —  you 
will  see  that  the  more  exact  render- 
ing of  our  Lord's  profound  words 
bears  me  out  in  my  interpreta- 
tion. For  the  original  text  evi- 
dently read, — not  "If  any  man  will 
do  His  will,  he  shall  know  of  the 
doctrine,"  but  "If  any  man  willeth 
to  do  His  will,  he  shall  know  of 
the  doctrine."  There  is  a  change  of 
only  a  word  or  two,  but  the  chasm 
between  the  renderings  is  wide  and 
deep;  the  true  rendering  empha- 

81 


efjr  (Jfyrn  ^rrrrt  of 

sizes  the  inner  life  rather  than  the 
outer;  and  it  is  in  harmony  with 
Christ's  other  affirmations  concern- 
ing the  hidden  subjective  act  and 
life,  as  more  significant  and  essen- 
tial than  is  the  visible  objective 
life. 

And  that  principle  is  the  ideal  of 
conduct  for  all  individuals  and 
groups  of  individuals.  Moreover,  it 
is  a  realizable  ideal;  such  realiza- 
tion may  be  far  in  the  future,  but 
the  world  does  move  toward  it. 

Just  here,  Thomas,  I  seem  to  hear 
you  protest ;  and  if  we  were  talking 
together,  face  to  face,  I  think  you 
would  call  my  attention  to  the 
courts  of  justice  and  prisons,  and 
other  penal  machinery  of  our  day. 
But  I  am  not  at  all  staggered  by 
such  a  challenge;  I  still  maintain 
that  the  blessed  "Good-Will"  prin- 
ciple would  work  its  way  toward 
just  and  beneficent  results,  even 
among  the  idle,  the  incompetent, 
and  even  the  persistently  vicious 
classes.  The  analogy  to  which  I 

82 


point  you  is  that  of  the  family ;  the 
principle  which  I  urge, — receiving 
it  from  Jesus, — is  the  current  of 
loving  will  which  streams  from  the 
true  brother  or  parent,  the  world 
over,  toward  the  wayward  brother 
or  the  wandering  son.  The  true 
father  is  not  he  who  meekly  yields 
to  every  wish  of  the  child  whom  he 
loves;  but  often  he  imposes  penal- 
ties, he  even  inflicts  pain, — suffer- 
ing, himself,  in  the  doing  it, — in 
order  that  his  child  may  be  turned 
from  vicious  paths. 
All  this  might  a  State  do  toward 
its  delinquent  citizens;  we  can 
fancy  courts  and  penal  institu- 
tions in  full  activity,  yet  all  mov- 
ing to  their  reformatory  end,  in  an 
atmosphere  of  sad,  reluctant,  yet 
firm  and  tender  action.  There  are 
individuals,  already,  who  adminis- 
ter justice  from  the  bench,  or  exe- 
cute judicial  commands  in  prisons 
and  reformatories,  with  this  spirit 
of  good-will  exhaling  from  every 
word  and  act,  and  it  is  only  such 

83 


. 


individuals  who  ever  pass  beyond 
the  hardening,  primitive  position 
of  the  old  Mosaic  code,  and  make 
any  real  change  for  the  better,  in 
the  characters  of  either  casual  or 
confirmed  criminals. 

I  can  see  you,  in  my  fancy,  Thom- 
as dear,  sitting  with  my  letter  in 
your  hand,  and  your  lips  pressed 
together,  your  brow  furrowed, 
your  whole  face  expressing  honest 
dissent, — or,  at  least,  cautious  in- 
quiry; but  take  my  thought,  take 
this  idea  of  "force," — beneficent  if 
possible,  but  at  least  benevolent, 
(accomplishing  good, — if  possible, 

—but  at  least  aiming  at  good,  will- 
ing good),  take  this,  and  with  it 
test  the  words  of  Jesus,  so  far  as 
your  critical  judgment  can  accept 
their  authenticity!  Recall,  for  in- 
stance, the  familiar  words  in  "The 
Lord's  Prayer,"  "Thy  kingdom 
come,  Thy  will  be  done."  Notice 
the  characteristic  Eastern  repeti- 
tion of  thought ;  notice  the  identity 
of  ideas  under  change  of  words; 

84 


V:>V  . 


iSSH55HSH5H5H5HSHS2SSHSH5H52SH52S2SH525ffi 

Mi 

(%  ©pen  £mrt  0f  Nazarrtly 

W..**'.!'*f:_ 
& 

God's  kingdom  comes, — the  king- 
dom of  Heaven  is  born  in  any 
heart,  —  co-incidentally  with  the 
willing  of  good  toward  others  by 
that  person ;  which  is  an  exercise  of 
force  characteristic  of  the  Heav- 
enly Father.  If  only  the  word  "be- 
nevolence" had  not  suffered  the 
"sad  sea-change"  which  has  come 
over  so  many  of  our  English  words, 
it  would  adequately  express  the  ex- 
act idea  urged  by  Jesus.  To  "will 
good"  toward  all  of  God's  crea- 
tures is  the  kernel  of  Christ's 
teaching. 

Recall,  also,  dear  Thomas,  the  mid- 
night song  of  the  angels  at  Bethle- 
hem !  You  may  not  follow  me  whole- 
heartedly in  my  fancy,  but  I  be- 
hold in  that  beautiful  story  a 
prophecy,  perhaps  all  unconscious, 
of  the  depth  and  scope  of  the  reve- 
lation of  Jesus;  "Peace  and  Good 
Will  to  Men!"  There  is  the  happy 
augury  of  the  unfolding  life  of 
Bethlehem's  babe,  sounded  high 
above  earth,  and  echoing  down  the 

RX 

oo 


ages.  Peace  at  the  heart  of  the 
Christ  and  of  every  Son  of  God; 
and,  radiating  from  that  central 
peace,  ceaseless  energy ;  at  the  cen- 
tre of  the  enlightened  human  soul 
absolute  poise,  like  that  at  the  cen- 
tre of  a  revolving  sphere,  with  mo- 
tion, force,  all  about  it, — that  hu- 
man force  which  we  call  "Will," 
pushing  out  in  loving  exercise  to- 
ward man,  in  sympathy  and  ser- 
vice, and  pushing  upward  toward 
the  Father,  in  gratitude  and  trust. 


86 


NINTH  LETTER 

Mount  Tabor,  Palestine. 

DEAR  THOMAS,— I  have  to- 
day made  the  ascent  of  this 
historic  mountain;  and  I  am 
sitting  in  the  shade  of  a  gnarled 
old  fig-tree,  half-way  down  the  de- 
scent; the  sun  is  warm, — for  the 
month  of  April, — and  the  thick 
shade  of  the  foliage  above  me  is 
very  grateful;  blossoms  have  al- 
ready fallen  from  this  tree,  and  the 
seed-vessels  are  not  numerous;  my 
dragoman  tells  me  that  the  fig- 
blossoms  much  resemble  tiny  figs; 
I  wish  I  could  have  seen  some  of 
them. 

The  climb  has  been  an  easy  one, 
and  my  dragoman  has  thoughtfully 
provided  refreshments;  so  that  I 
sit  here  and  write,  in  comfort  and 
ease,  with  two  other  tourists, — 
Englishmen, — a  few  yards  away; 
little  do  they  know  the  thread  of 
my  thought ! 

This  symmetrical,  bare  eminence, 
87 


Mount  Tabor,  must  not  be  con- 
founded with  the  "Mount  of  Trans- 
figuration"; the  ecclesiastics  of  the 
Middle  Ages  so  confounded  it. 
Rather  do  I  think  that  the  site  of 
that  fascinating  yet  elusive  mysti- 
cal scene  was  on  the  heights  of  Her- 
mon,  not  far  from  Csesarea  Phi- 
lippi.  There  is  no  episode,  in  the 
Scripture  record,  which  more  al- 
lures, yet  disappoints,  me  than 
does  that  of  the  Transfiguration. 
O  Thomas,  what  fact,  what  soul- 
experience,  what  spiritual  insight 
lies  hidden  beneath  that  strange, — 
and  probably  inadequately  told, — 
story  ?  Who  can  say  ?  Sometimes  I 
seem  to  perceive  the  hidden  truth; 
and  again  I  stand  afar  off,  and 
accept  my  place  among  the  unini- 
tiated. 

Since  I  sent  my  last  letter,  Thom- 
as, I  have  conjectured  much  as 
to  the  reception, — intellectual  and 
spiritual, — which  you  would  give 
it.  And  I  know  the  bent  of  your 
cautious,  logical  mind  so  well  that 

88 


H5aHSZE532HS5E^ 

®lf?  QDjmt  &st r? 1 0f  Nazarrtlj 

"*  V?"  to 

I  feel  sure  as  to  your  point  of  di- 
vergence from  my  reflections  and 
convictions.  I  remember  how  we 
were  used,  in  the  old  days,  to  dis- 
cuss that  knotty  problem  of  "Free- 
will and  Necessity,"  and  corol- 
laries. I  believe  that  you  never 
quite  satisfied  yourself  as  to  your 
veritable  freedom  of  will ;  I,  on  the 
contrary,  reached  a  point  where 
the  doubt  of  it  no  longer  haunted 
me. 

Therefore  I  know  that  you  are 
saying,  as  you  read  what  I  write 
about  "beneficent  willing," — or, 
more  exactly,  by  etymology,  "be- 
nevolence,"— that  the  old  problem 
of  human ' l  free-will' '  underlies  this 
"idea,"  this  "Open  Secret,"  which 
I  attribute  to  Jesus. 

So  be  it ;  but  remember  that  your 
disbelief  in  free-will  and  my  belief 
in  it  are  both,  probably,  in  some 
manner,  results  of  our  diverse  tem- 
peraments; do  not  forget,  old 
friend,  also,  that  you  are  continu- 
ously and  consistently  acting  on 

89 

Hci?  £W&£  ^fs$#$  £$^?'£>*  ^fSs'W  • 

m     »••  'if 

fa. 


-'1  V±?  " 

my  theory,  instead  of  on  your  own. 
Moreover,  I  recall  to  you  those  fine 
lines  of  Tennyson: 

"  Our  wills  are  ours,  we  know  not  how, 
Our  wills  are  ours, — to  make  them  Thine." 

How  admirably  that  statement 
supports  my  position !  And  when  I 
was  on  the  steamer,  Thomas,  one 
of  my  fellow-passengers  loaned  me 
a  copy  of  Tennyson's  biography. 
In  one  of  the  poet-philosopher's 
letters  to  a  friend  he  touches  this 
problem  of  free-will  in  a  masterly 
way.  His  friend  has  written  him 
some  question  on  the  subject,  and 
Tennyson  replies  that  he  does  be- 
lieve in  a  limited  degree  of  freedom 
of  will.  "We  have,"  he  says,  "the 
same  kind  of  freedom  which  a 
canary  has,  in  its  cage ;  we  can  leap 
from  one  perch  to  another,  although 
we  cannot  pass  outside  the  wires  of 
our  cage." 

I  call  that  an  acute  and  illuminat- 
ing illustration,  Thomas ;  and  even 
grander  is  the  suggestion  with 

90 


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^"' 

®lj*  <$pnt  &wr*t  of  Sfearrtlj 

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ffl  & 

which  Tennyson  continues;  he  de- 
clares his  belief  that  "God  chooses 
to  hold  His  own  will  in  abeyance, 
at  that  point  in  the  periphery  of 
His  power,  where  man's  will  im- 
pinges on  His  Divine  will." 

What  say  you  to  that,  Thomas? 
The  whole  universe  is  orderly,  and 
cause  and  effect,  (physical  and 
mental),  are  everywhere  operative, 
except  at  one  point,  —  the  point  in 
human  character  which  we  call  the 
will,  —  indefinable  yet  undeniable, 
tiny  in  scope,  yet  capable  of  revolu- 
tionizing, —  yes,  when  in  harmony 
with  God's  will,  of  evolutionizing 
the  world  still  further,  after  God 
alone  and  unaided  has  brought  the 
world  up  to  the  level  of  human 
birth  and  life  and  effort. 

Tell  me  frankly,  Thomas,  in  your 
next  letter,  —  which  I  shall  probably 
receive  at  Athens,  if  I  hold  to  the 
itinerary  which  you  and  I  laid  out 
before  I  started,  —  tell  me  frankly 
if  you  think  I  am  justified  in  my 
depth  of  feeling  about  this  "Open 

Q1 
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8 


Secret"  of  Jesus!  I  admit  that  I 
am  profoundly  impressed  by  my 
conviction,  but  I  hope  that  I  keep 
my  balance,  and  retain  sound  judg- 
ment. 

I  am  simply  re-inforced  in  my 
previous  historical  estimate  of  the 
greatness  of  the  Christ  by  this 
my  statement  of  the  gospel  He 
preached.  In  urging  the  consecra- 
tion of  the  human  will  to  loving  ser- 
vice He  was  acting  upon  the  prom- 
ise previously  revealed  to  Him  from 
above  that  God  is  forever  willing 
good  to  His  children ;  Jesus  there- 
fore sought  to  state  the  harmonious 
working  of  man's  will  with  God's 
will.  The  blending,  in  a  man,  of 
those  two, — like  the  blending  of 
two  notes  of  music,  producing  a 
third,  as  Browning  says  in  "Abt 
Vogler,"  -  produces  that  human 
attitude  of  love,  of  the  individual 
toward  his  fellows,  which  Jesus 
called  "The  Kingdom  of  Heaven." 
I  do  not  wonder,  when  I  reflect 
upon  the  difficulty  of  expressing 

92 

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nl        ^i?  «i£  Vt>*  !*££  f.''f'.  yi>. 


2ty*  QDpttt  &m?t  nf  Nazar* tlj 

it,  that  our  Lord  could  not  more 
readily  convey  His  secret  to  the  dull 
minds  about  Him ;  but  I  am  lost  in 
wonder  and  admiration  and  adora- 
tion, when  I  consider  the  depth  and 
range  of  the  principle  which  Jesus 
grasped  and  taught. 

At  this  point,  my  dear  friend,  I 
seem  to  see  your  calm,  critical  face, 
and  to  hear  your  dispassionate  yet 
earnest  voice  urging  an  objection.  I 
can  fancy  you  saying,  with  forefin- 
ger resting  gently  across  your  knee, 
as  of  old,  "You  seem  to  confuse 
the  act  of  volition  with  the  emotion 
of  love.  In  what  relation  to  each 
other  do  you  understand  those  two 
psychical  phenomena  to  stand,  as 
elements  of  Christ's  teaching?  ': 

My  answer,  Thomas,  is  this.  The 
ultimate  condition  or  attitude  into 
which  Jesus  aimed  to  bring  His 
disciples,  as  regards  their  fellow- 
men,  was  the  attitude  of  love; 
which  is  an  emotion ;  but  the  imme- 
diate step  which  He  urged,  the  pre- 
paratory psychical  condition,  was 


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that  of  the  active  will ;  (which  is  a 
tautological  expression,  you  per- 
ceive ;  for  will  is  essentially  active ;) 
the  will  is  the  one  factor  in  a  man 
which  can  be  commanded  into  ex- 
istence directly ;  it  is  therefore  the 
one  factor  which  Jesus  could  urge 
and  exhort,  in  His  reformation  and 
re-adjustment  of  the  man  himself ; 
vain  is  any  attempt  to  force  the 
emotions  directly;  love  cannot  be 
commanded  into  activity,  nor  can 
hate  or  despair  be  banished  by  any 
fiat;  those  emotions,  and  all  emo- 
tions, rise  or  fall,  live  or  die,  by 
laws  of  causation,  often  by  sugges- 
tion, but  not  by  any  imperative 
laid  upon  them.  The  will,  however, 
is  more  or  less  emancipated  from 
laws  of  causation,  it  is  unique,  mys- 
terious, uncaused,  as  was  Pallas, 
springing  fully  armed,  from  the 
head  of  Zeus. 

Listen  closely,  Thomas,  for  this 
point  is  nearly  the  subtle  one  which 
eluded  many  of  Christ's  listeners; 
(and  I  hardly  need  remind  you, 

94 


. 

•.JiHHi3 


dear  friend,  that  I  speak  in  all  hu- 
mility, yet  as  one  under  the  com- 
pulsion of  truth  as  he  sees  it).  That 
Divine  Teacher,  with  His  profound 
intuitive  mind,  saw,  with  no  train- 
ing from  the  Greek  philosophers, 
that  the  human  will  is  the  keystone 
of  the  arch  of  human  destiny;  He 
seized  upon  what  Emmanuel  Kant 
afterward  sought  in  vain  to  ana- 
lyze and  classify;  and  doubtless 
our  Lord  shared,  in  some  degree, 
the  wonder  and  awe  which  we,  with 
the  great  Konigsberg  philosopher, 
have  felt  in  the  presence  of  the  in- 
soluble "Categorical  Imperative." 
Again  I  say,  the  message  of  Jesus 
was  directly  to  the  will  of  man,  and 
indirectly  to  man's  mind  and  heart ; 
the  will  was  seen  by  the  Nazarene 
Prophet  to  be  the  avenue  into  the 
man's  character  and  conduct.  If 
the  man  could  be  induced  to  com- 
mand his  will  (by  repeated  con- 
crete acts  of  volition)  into  well- 
wishing  and  well-doing,  then  would 
become  established  in  that  man  the 


emotion  of  love  toward  man  and 
God;  the  man,  by  repeatedly  "do- 
ing the  will"  of  God,  that  is  by 
definitely  willing  good  thoughts 
and  deeds,  would  presently  "learn 
the  doctrine," — the  teaching, — of 
Jesus;  and  the  great  "Secret" 
would  no  longer  remain  a  secret. 
Another  matter,  suggested  by  this 
line  of  reflection.  As  I  pause  in  my 
writing,  there  comes  to  me  the  rec- 
ollection of  that  discussion  of  ours, 
not  long  before  I  sailed.  It  was 
on  "Monism  versus  Dualism,"  as 
the  formula  of  the  universe.  The 
subject  was  much  in  vogue  among 
clergymen  and  Doctors  of  Divinity, 
I  was  told ;  I  wonder  how  they  have 
settled  it.  This  was  the  crux  of  the 
matter,  was  it  not?  Is  human  per- 
sonality,— or,  to  put  it  more  simply 
and  effectively,  each  for  himself, — 
is  my  personality  an  entity  of  it- 
self? Or  is  there  another  personal- 
ity, or  are  there  other  personalities, 
in  the  universe?  Is  the  universe 
philosophically  resoluble, — like  the 

96 
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seventy  odd  physical  elements, — 
into  three  or  four  elements,  or  into 
two,  or  even  into  one  ? 

That  problem,  being  a  problem  of 
individuality,  or  personality,  is  a 
problem  of  the  will;  which, — and 
not  the  intellect  or  the  emotions, — 
is  the  foundation  of  personality. 
And  does  not  this  "Open  Secret  of 
Nazareth"  bear  directly  and  illu- 
minatingly  upon  that  problem?  Is 
not  the  foundation-truth  of  our  life 
the  truth, — not  of  "Being,"  but  of 
"Becoming"1*  Is  not  the  key  to  the 
riddle  of  the  Sphinx, — "Action," 
and  not  "Rest"?  Do  not  Monism 
and  Dualism, — yes  and  Pantheism, 
— dissolve  in  the  re-agent  "force"? 
All  three  of  them  are  "states"  only, 
and  cannot  serve  as  formulae  for 
life,  which  is, — action,  energy. 
Therefore  I  say  that  the  world  of 
God  and  Man, — for  that  is  the 
whole  world,  these  two  divide  all 
existence  between  them, — the  one 
only  universe,  the  world  of  spirit, 
is  a  Dualism  which  is  ceaselessly 

J8    97 

as 
& 


BfiAiWHWiM^ 

5Hj*  ©pm  £wr*t  uf  Sfearrtl? 

?  C 

rj. 

seeking  to  ~become  a  Monism;  and 
it  will  forever  seek  it,  through  all 
eternity;  the  progression  is  an  in- 
finite series;  man  will  approach 
God,  through  repeated  will-acts, 
forever  and  ever;  he  will  approxi- 
mate, in  beatific  destiny,  to  Deity, 
yet  will  never  become  identical 
with  Deity.  The  "Flying  Goal"  of 
Emerson  is  the  Monism;  the  ave- 
nue of  advance  toward  it  is  the  path 
of  Dualism. 

All  this  Jesus  must  have  seen, 
Thomas,  walking  upon  these  Syrian 
hillsides,  and  communing  with  God. 
How  my  heart  goes  out  in  sympa- 
thy and  reverence  for  Him!  Most 
of  His  hearers  had  not  "the  ears 
to  hear";  they  must  have  felt  the 
warm,  life-giving  current  of  His 
will,  as  it  was  indicated  by  His 
sweet  smile,  His  gentle  voice,  His 
tender  eyes,  bestowing  blessings 
on  all  whom  He  met.  They  could  not 
grasp  all  His  teaching,  much  as 
they  loved  to  listen  to  His  persua- 
sive words;  but  they  loved  Him, 

98 


and  mourned  His  death,  I  know, 
and  remembered  His  sayings  and 
His  deeds.  A  few,  His  chosen  ones, 
grasped  His  meaning  in  part;  but 
not  one  soul  on  earth  shared  His 
full  thought;  the  neglect  and  soli- 
tude of  "The  Agony  in  the  Gar- 
den" was  only  the  momentary 
outer  sign  and  symbol  of  His  con- 
tinuous isolation  from  full  human 
fellowship. 

But  the  sun  is  sinking,  and  I  must 
return  to  my  lodgings  in  the  monas- 
tery. I  must,  however,  wait  to  say 
this  one  additional  word.  You  know 
that  in  America,  especially, — and 
less  in  Europe, — it  has  become  the 
fashion,  among  certain  Biblical 
critics  and  theological  writers,  to 
loftily  assert  or  assume  that  Jesus 
"never  originated  anything."  Such 
critics  point  to  the  Golden  Rule  as 
the  nearest  approach  of  Jesus  to 
originality ;  and  they  then  cite  Con- 
fucius and  his  "Do  not  unto  others 
that  which  you  would  not  have 
them  do  to  you." 

99 

yK      ™    y2v 


ytf 


a 


" There!"  say  these  critics,  "you 
have  substantially  the  teaching  of 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  uttered  by  a 
Chinese  sage,  thousands  of  years 
before  the  Christian  era." 

Such  a  disparaging  estimate  of 
Jesus  can  be  held  only  by  men  who 
have  failed  to  see  the  exact  point 
which  Jesus  urged;  the  difference 
between  the  teaching  of  Confucius 
and  the  teaching  of  our  Lord  was 
not  simply  a  slight  difference,  as 
between  an  affirmative  and  a  nega- 
tive; but  the  positive  precept  of 
Jesus  regarding  our  love  for  God 
and  our  neighbor  is  as  different 
from  the  negation  of  Confucius  as 
is  light  from  darkness,  as  is  pleas- 
ure from  pain.  In  the  Confucian 
negation  lies  inaction,  stagnation, 
death.  In  the  active  principle  of  the 
Golden  Rule  lies  the  germ  of  ethi- 
cal and  spiritual  reformation  and 
evolution,  and  the  guerdon  of  eter- 
nal life. 

Taking  such  critics  on  their 
own  ground,  comparing  Jesus,  the 

100 

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JEW      K 

(§jmt  garret  nf  Nazareth 


vv 

founder  of  the  Christian  religion, 
with  the  founders  of  other  ethnic 
religions,  I  dare  assert  that  He  was 
the  most  original  of  all;  for  while 
they  imparted  systems  and  codes  of 
ethical  or  theological  thought,  He 
penetrated  deeper  than  thought,  to 
will,  the  centre  of  all  personality, 
divine  or  human ;  and  He  aimed  to 
modify  human  wills,  and  direct 
them  to  action  which  should  be  in 
harmony  with  the  will  of  God. 

Further,  Thomas,  if  I  read  aright 
the  Scripture  record,  our  Lord  ex- 
emplified unconsciously,  in  word 
and  glance  and  touch,  the  selfsame 
principle  which  He  so  earnestly 
tried  to  teach ;  I  mean  that  His  own 
poised,  insistent  will  seems  to  have 
made  a  profound  impression  on 
all  whom  He  met.  You  remember, 
perhaps,  that  incident  early  in  Na- 
poleon Bonaparte's  life,  where  he 
entered  the  hall  of  the  Directory. 
He  had  not  yet  had  opportunity  to 
exhibit  his  full  baneful  power ;  but, 
as  he  entered,  all  eyes  were  turned 


kj    »: 

i&Z 

Bj      '£";  kj 

critically  upon  him;  he  uttered  no 
word,  he  gave  no  physical  sign ;  but 
one  of  the  leaders  whispered  to  his 
neighbor,  "I  think  we  have  found 
our  master."  There  was  some  in- 
stant mysterious  revelation  of 

•r 

Bonaparte's  power  which  went 
straight  to  the  hearts  of  those  ob- 
servers. 

Some  such  mysterious  impress  of 
our  Lord's  powerful  personality 
must  have  reached  all  who  met 
Him;  although,  of  course,  I  need 
hardly  add,  in  explanation,  that 
whereas  the  Corsican  tyrant's  power 
was  egotistic,  centripetal,  the  power 
of  Jesus  was  centrifugal,  benefi- 
cent. It  was  this  subtle  impression 
of  His  will  which  made  listeners 
exclaim,  "This  man  speaks  with 
authority,  and  not  as  the  scribes." 

There!  The  shadows  deepen,  the 
red  sun  is  quite  out  of  sight  below 
the  hills,  and  I  must  hasten,  or  I 
shall  find  the  rough  road  back  to 
Nazareth  Town  made  even  rougher 
and  more  difficult  by  the  darkness. 

102 

I  $      *$      ©      S 

fflZSHii 


TENTH  LETTER 

Naples,  Italy. 

MY  DEAR  THOMAS— Several 
weeks  have  elapsed  since  I 
wrote  my  last  letter  from 
the  Holy  Land;  I  have  sent  you 
several  post-cards,  in  the  mean- 
time ;  and  you  have  been  informed 
of  my  route  from  Haifa  to  Smyrna, 
Constantinople,  Athens,  and  here 
by  way  of  Brindisi.  From  Naples  I 
shall  travel  by  easy  stages,  up 
through  Italy  and  Switzerland  to 
France  and  England,  and  then 
home. 

I  have  been  reading  the  letter 
which  you  sent  me,  after  you  re- 
ceived my  several  letters  written  at 
Nazareth.  That  profound  subject 
of  "The  Open  Secret  of  Nazareth" 
still  deeply  interests  me ;  you  do  not 
commit  yourself,  Thomas,  to  entire 
agreement  with  my  explanation  of 
the  life  and  message  of  our  Lord; 
but  I  know  that  you  have  read,  with 


SHSSBHKHEKSHSE^^ 

sympathy,  all  that  I  have  so  warmly 

'XJ. 

written. 

I  note  your  cautious  comments  on 
my  train  of  reflections,  and  I  wish 
to  reply  to  one  or  two  of  them. 

You  urge  me  to  carry  out  my 
analysis  of  "The  Open  Secret, " 
the  benevolent  and  beneficent  Will- 
Kingdom,  —  into  more  practical 
fields;  you  ask  how  a  man,  —  a 
learned  philosopher,  or  a  humble 
artisan,  or  a  confirmed  criminal, — 
shall  lay  hold  of  this  secret;  how 
shall  he  know  what  to  will?  And 

rtl          •  »  • 

so  on. 

I  answer, — the  knowledge  of  what 
to  will  varies  with  the  age  and  the 
individual ;  it  is  philosophically  the 
"content"  of  this  blind  but  active 
will;  it  is  the  " variable," — to  illus- 
trate from  mathematics, — and  the 
will  is  the  constant;  the  two  com- 
bined give  the  curve  of  condition 
and  progress  for  the  individual  or 
the  race.  Your  question,  Thomas, 
is  much  like  the  old  problem  of 
conscience,  with  its  two  elements, 

Ln 

104 


^HHSESffiHKHSHHHW 


£• 

the  "I  ought,"  and  the  "What 
ought  I?"  The  "Secret"  of  Jesus 
was  assuredly  a  principle, — not  of 
thinking  or  feeling,  but  of  doing, 
of  conduct;  or,  more  inwardly,  of 
willing,  which  is  the  root  of  con- 
duct. That  obscure  but  striking 
scene  in  the  gospel,  which  we  call 
the  "Last  Judgment,"  places  the 
test,  as  between  the  sheep  and  goats, 
upon  conduct,  not  upon  empty 
words  and  idle  sentiment.  And  I 
recall  that  passage  of  the  Great 
Teacher's,  regarding  the  sin  of 
fleshly  desires:  "Whoso  looketh  on 
a  woman,  to  lust  after  her,  hath 
committed  adultery  with  her  al- 
ready, in  his  heart."  There  is  the 
fatal  culpable  act, — in  the  will ;  for 
his  will  man  is  responsible;  by  its 
action  he  is  to  be  judged,  so  far  as 
is  possible. 

To  come  to  more  practical  ap- 
plications, Thomas,  I  believe  that 
each  man  or  woman,  making  his 
way  through  the  world,  in  humble 
station  or  station  exalted, — mak- 

105 

8B8BS 


Si 


nf 


ing  it  by  exercise  of  his  will,  in 
large  strides  or  infinitely  small 
steps,  —  each  person,  at  such  a  step, 
has  a  choice,  practically,  between 
two  decisions,  rather  than  among 
several  ;  the  statesman  or  the  mer- 
chant, the  prince  or  the  pauper,  the 
saint  or  the  criminal,  each  sees  a 
higher  and  a  lower  at  every  cross- 
road of  his  life;  the  criminal's 

7 

"  higher"  may  be  inferior  to  the 
saint's  "lower";  but  to  him,  —  the 
criminal,  —  it  is  a  "  higher";  and 
the  human  will,  at  each  of  these 
subjective  or  spiritual  cross-roads, 
chooses  its  higher,  that  is,  —  puts 
itself  in  harmony,  for  that  moment 
and  that  moment  only,  —  with  God  ; 
the  door  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
is  flung  open  on  the  instant,  and 
may  close,  as  instantly;  it  lives,  it 
dies;  "The  will  is  dead;  Live,  the 
will!" 

As  I  now  read  over  that  last  para- 
graph, —  having,  in  the  meantime, 
been  called  out  to  arrange  for  a 
visit  to  Pompeii,  —  I  fear  that  I  am 

106 

'-'      '*."""•  "''-".'      Xr-'       -''eTX     'tffi'tfff'tfff     W5l< 

PT  "1;T  "1;f 

HI    y*          ri          '^:          w          »i          V*    $ 


v?    S 

not  definite  enough  in  my  exposi- 
tion. I  remember  that  you  often 
chaffed  me,  Thomas,  about  my  ca- 
pacity for  "levitation"  (not  lev- 
ity) ;  so  I  must  apply  this  truth  of 
the  will  to  the  most  concrete  acts. 
And  this  is  what  I  mean.  Take  my 
day's  actions.  I  arose  at  eight;  I 
looked  out  of  the  window;  I  noted 
the  line  of  cabs  and  group  of  cab- 
men in  front  of  the  hotel ;  then  and 
there  came  the  choice  to  me  of  either 
looking  at  those  men  unsympathet- 
ically,  or  sympathetically;  I  could 
dwell  upon  their  harsh  voices  and 
rough  ways,  drawing  back  from 
them,  in  my  will,  or  I  could  reflect 
that  they  were  seeking  employ- 
ment, earnestly,  even  anxiously,  in 
order  to  support  the  wife  and  chil- 
dren whom  they  loved.  Unconscious 
of  me,  they  joked,  and  brushed  their 
cab-cushions;  but,  up  at  the  win- 
dow, I  was  choosing,  on  the  instant, 
the  world  of  the  good-will  or  the 
world  of  the  ill-will,  as  my  mo- 
mentary dwelling-place. 


SE52SES2S2S25HSBSESE5HSI2S2SS5ESE5E52SHS25 


s§ 

The  same  choice  I  made  as  I  sat 
at  the  breakfast  table  and  was  at- 
tended by  the  waiter ;  in  my  slight 
conversation  with  him,  in  that 
brief  contact  of  his  nature  and 
mine,  came  the  opportunity  for  the 
significant  choice  —  of  good-will 
rather  than  ill-will ;  of  good- will, — 
not  tact  merely,  not  simulation,  but 
good- will  and  friendliness;  when  I 
noticed  that  he  had  forgotten  the 
hot  water  for  my  coffee  I  did  not 
draw  back,  in  my  spirit,  letting  an- 
tipathy rule  me,  but  I  reminded  him 
gently,  patiently;  and  I  thanked 
him  when  he  corrected  his  omission. 

Thus,  throughout  my  day,  which  is 
nearly  gone,  I  could  name  twenty, 
yes,  forty  points  where  the  orbit  of 
my  conduct  has  intersected  the  orb- 
its of  other  human  beings ;  and  each 
time  I  have  had  an  opportunity, — 
great  or  small,  important  or  trivial, 
—to  exhale  the  fragrance  of  kindli- 
ness, or  to  surround  myself  with  an 
aura  of  chilling  reserve,  or  to  emit 
positive  hate.  I  fear  that  I  have 

108 


K 

«•/*!*      VI?£I*4»    >»  vutt     *.n     „>  UiC*4  1.  ill 
Kj 

ww 

failed,  yes,  have  sinned,  repeatedly, 
in  these  minute  experiences;  but 
such  as  they  are,  they  make  up  the 
sum  of  my  life,  and,  essentially,  of 
all  our  lives ;  thus  do  we  achieve  our 
multifold  victories  of  the  will,  or 
we  suffer  defeat,  in  the  tiny  arenas, 
with  which  each  day  is  filled. 
When  I  look  back,  dear  Thomas, 
on  my  " Dream-days"  (yet  my 
dream-days  of  revelation),  in  sim- 
ple serene  Nazareth,  I  say  to  my- 
self, again,  that  only  in  Nazareth 
and  not  at  Jerusalem  was  Jesus 
likely  to  have  attained  His  truth  of 
the  harmonized  evolving  will;  for 
in  cities  there  are  fewer  strictly 
personal  forces  to  be  encountered, 
and  more  impersonal  social  codes 
and  legal  statutes  and  class  conven- 
tions to  be  confronted ;  if  the  young 
prophet  had  dwelt,  during  His  im- 
pressionable, unfolding  childhood 
and  youth,  in  the  "City  of  David," 
He  would  have  been  less  impressed 
with  the  significance  and  determin- 
ing power  of  individual  human 
109 

^          ^j  igg          '<£$    [g 

fl-SffiEsesh 


wills  than  at  Nazareth ;  in  that  little 
Galilean  village  individuals  were 
the  centres  of  force,  and  formal 
class-restrictions  were  but  slight; 
in  Nazareth  the  mystery  and  the 
marvel  of  a  human  personality, — 
and  its  central  fountain,  a  will, — 
this  challenged  the  insight  of  Jesus, 
and,  when  illumined  from  above 
by  the  revealed  light  of  God,  the 
Father, — must  have  unconsciously 
guided  Him  in  his  path  toward  His 
announced  gospel, — which  was  not, 
primarily,  a  code  for  groups  and 
masses,  but  a  gospel  for  the  indi- 
vidual, a  message  to  the  isolated 
human  will. 

Yesterday,  an  English  friend,  here 
at  the  hotel,  loaned  me  a  book  con- 
taining excerpts  from  some  of  Glad- 
stone's  letters;  and  I  had  the  good 
fortune  to  find,  in  one,  (dated  Jan- 
uary 21,  1844,  and  written  to  his 
wife),  these  words — " There  is  a 
beautiful  little  sentence  in  the 
works  of  Charles  Lamb,  concerning 
one  who  had  been  afflicted, — 'He 

no 


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nf  Sfearrtlj 


gave  his  heart  to  the  Purifier,  and 
his  will  to  The  Sovereign  Will  of 
the  Universe.'  But  there  is  a  speech 
in  the  third  canto  of  the l  Paradise/ 

7 

of  Dante,  spoken  by  a  certain  Pis- 
carda,  which  is  a  rare  gem.  I  will 
quote  this  one  line :  'In  la,  sua  volon- 
tade  e  nostra  pace.' "  In  His  will 
is  our  peace. 

One  other  point  comes  to  my 
mind,  Thomas ;  that  saying  of  Em- 
erson 's  which  both  you  and  I  have 

«,  ,        j          //Vv       . 

so  often  quoted.  "Being  is  more 
than  doing."  Since  I  have  entered 
upon  the  reflections  suggested  by 
my  visit  to  Nazareth,  I  have  more 
and  more  doubted  the  finality  of 
that  doctrine  of  the  gentle  sage  of 
Concord.  "Being"  may  indeed  be 
higher  than  "Doing,"  because  "Be- 
ing" is  assumed  to  include  "Do- 
ing." But  I  seem  to  scent  the  death- 
odor  of  a  hidden  "Esoteric  philoso- 
phy" under  that  phrase;  and  was 
not  Emerson  deeply  tinged  with 
the  esoteric  spirit  of  those  Eastern 
cults  which  he  so  loved?  Was  he 
in 


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not,  therefore,  —  as  exemplified  in 
this  phrase  about  "  Being"  and 
"  Doing,"  —  somewhat  at  variance 
with  the  "Secret  of  Jesus,"  which 
was,—  "  Willing"?  And  was  not  he 
sometimes  at  variance  with  the 
fundamental  spirit  of  this  universe, 
which  is,  —  not  any  passive  condi- 
tion, however  lofty,  —  but  tireless, 
upward-pushing  energy?  The  in- 
clusive formula,  Thomas,  which 
will  express  the  life  of  this  uni- 
verse, —  and  man  and  God,  —  must 
be  a  formula  of  energy,  and  not  of 
inaction,  not  of  a  state  or  condition. 
That  was  the  profound  perception 
of  Jesus;  and  the  root  of  His  re- 
ligion of  "The  Consecrated  Will" 
pierces  deeper  than  does  the  root 
of  any  philosophy,  even  as  the  tree 
of  an  ideal  manhood  towers  above 
the  dry  weeds  of  the  world's  specu- 
lative systems;  and  it  is  the  verita- 
ble "Tree  of  life"  in  our  terrestrial 
Eden  ;  yes,  it  is  the  open  door  of  the 
kingdom  of  God,  in  the  soul  of  each 

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of  his  children. 

• 

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112 

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